Bittersweet Justice
by dS-Tiff
Summary: Fraser and RayK are drawn into investigating an unconventional murder. Then an old friend, Elaine Besbriss, returns in need of Fraser's help, while Ray ponders a confusing relationship. They need to close the case, but it won't be easy.
1. Chapter 1

_This story is set during Season 3/4 of due South. I hope you enjoy reading it. All comments welcome. Thank you kindly!_

 ** _Bittersweet Justice_**

 **CHAPTER 1.**

"I'm telling you, Fraser, she smiled at me. Twice." Ray tipped the last of his packet of chocolate coated candies into the cup of coffee that he'd been looking forward to ever since he'd arrived back at his apartment. "What does that mean? And you sure I can't get you something more interesting than, er, water?"

"Water is fine, thank you kindly." Fraser sipped at the tall glass and suddenly realised how thirsty he was. It had been a long, difficult day and he and Ray were looking forward to a pizza and a hockey game to unwind. "You're positive you don't know this woman?"

"Nope," Ray shrugged. "Pretty sure I'd remember if I'd met her before."

"Did you return the gesture?"

"Y'mean did I smile back at her like some creepy weirdo?" asked Ray, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"It would have been the polite thing to do," Fraser pointed out. "Not in a creepy weirdo way, of course, but out of courtesy."

"Yeah, well, I don't dance with courtesy quite like you, buddy," replied Ray, pointing a finger at his friend. "Besides, no girl in this city smiles at you for no reason. She's after something, I'm telling you Fraser. She has a motive, I just have to figure out what it is."

"You believe there was a motive behind her friendly smile?" asked Fraser incredulously. "If you don't mind me saying, Ray, that's an incredibly cynical viewpoint."

"That's me, Fraser," shrugged Ray. "And I'm not falling for her…I mean, falling for it."

Fraser's eyes narrowed at Ray's Freudian slip.

Ray glanced at the Mountie and then quickly looked away in embarrassment. "Don't," he said.

"Don't what, exactly?"

"Don't say whatever it was you were thinking, OK?" Ray got up from the sofa and crossed to the window.

"Right you are," nodded Fraser, slightly puzzled.

Ray spun round. "I just can't risk it right now, Fraser. I can't. I know it's d-u-m dumb, but that's how it is. And I don't need an Inuit story from you about how the bear and the tiger learned to move on from some kind of fishing related heartbreak, or whatever, OK? Just drop it. She's just a girl who I guess has an apartment in this building and maybe she likes me, or maybe she's part Canadian so she just thinks being polite is normal, but either way nothing is going to happen between us."

"There are no tigers in the Territories, Ray."

"You know what I mean," snapped Ray.

Fraser slowly drew his thumbnail across his left eyebrow as he pondered the conversation. "I'm sorry, Ray, but I don't."

Ray sighed and returned to his seat on the couch. "Stella," he said quietly.

"Oh."

Diefenbaker, who had been dozing at Fraser's feet, lifted his head and whined.

"Yeah, even the wolf knows what I'm talking about," nodded Ray. "You saw what a screw up I was with Luanne Russell," he continued. "I'm just too damaged to figure out women now." He tapped his right temple with his forefinger. "And say this girl does like me, she won't once she gets to know me so if she smiles at me again I'm gonna ignore her. Simple as that. Avoids all that messy, heartbreaky stuff further down the line."

"I see."

"No you don't."

Fraser moistened his lower lip with his tongue. It wasn't strictly true. His heart had been broken too and that situation had been far messier than Ray's divorce so he was well aware of the need to protect oneself from any more pain, but he couldn't reconcile that with Ray's actions towards an innocent stranger. Before Fraser could say anything there was a knock at the door.

Diefenbaker barked.

 _This had better be the pizza…I've had two dog biscuits since lunchtime. Two. And after I risked my life taking down that human who was trying to kill the other human this afternoon. Two measly dog biscuits. Ingrate…_

He glanced at Fraser and wondered, not for the first time, exactly why he stayed with the strange human.

 _Oh yes…he needs me…_

Ray leapt up and grabbed his wallet from the side before opening the door. "If you've forgotten the pineapple again this time I'll…" he began, but then he trailed off. "Oh…hi," he said.

Fraser glanced up at the change of tone in Ray's voice. He was surprised to see a woman at the door instead of the pizza delivery driver. She looked about thirty five years old with shoulder length mousey brown hair and green eyes. She was dressed smartly in a navy blue skirt and a pink blouse which clung to her curves. From Ray's reactions Fraser assumed this was the woman they'd just been talking about.

"Hi," said the woman. "Look, I'm really sorry to bother you, but…" she glanced nervously over her shoulder before continuing. "You're a cop, right?" she asked.

"Yeah," nodded Ray, suspiciously.

"Oh, sorry, I'm Carrie-Ann," smiled the woman.

"Ray," replied Ray, curtly.

Fraser got to his feet and walked over to join them. "Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP," he introduced himself. "I first came to Chicago on the trail…"

"Not now, Fraser," snapped Ray.

"Sorry, Ray," nodded Fraser. Then he looked at Carrie-Ann with concern. "Are you in need of police help?" he asked.

Carrie-Ann shrugged. "I don't know…maybe…" she replied.

Fraser glanced at Ray and widened his eyes, hoping his friend would understand the gesture and invite the woman in.

Ray ignored him for a moment.

 _Why is she here? Is she stalking me? Has she been listening to our conversation this whole time? What does she want with me? God…she has beautiful eyes…_

Fraser was still staring at him and Ray couldn't take the awkward silence any longer. "Er, come in," he muttered and stood aside as Carrie-Ann stepped through the doorway.

"Thank you," she smiled. "It's probably nothing and I'm really sorry to bother you, but I've seen you a few times in the hall and I saw your badge so I knew you were a cop and…"

"How can we be of assistance?" Fraser urged, keen to move things along.

"It's my grandmother," Carrie-Ann explained. "She lives downstairs, apartment eight. She's old and getting sick, but she can still look after herself with my help. I try to visit every day, but it's not easy with work. I came straight here from the office tonight, but she's not answering her door. I have a key, but I can't find it, I guess I left it in my other purse."

"And you'd like our assistance to gain entry to the apartment?" Fraser queried.

"Please," nodded Carrie-Ann. "I'm kinda worried about her. She knew I was coming. She never goes out on her own. "

"Do you have ID?" asked Ray, folding his arms across his chest.

Fraser frowned at him. "Is that really necessary?" he asked.

"It's alright," smiled Carrie-Ann. "I understand, I could be anyone. Here, I have these." She rummaged in her purse and produced various documents with her name, photograph and address on them.

Ray scanned down the information and handed them back. "OK," he said. "Let's go." He quickly slung his holster around his shoulders and checked his gun.

"Oh," Carrie-Ann brought her hand to her mouth nervously as she spoke. "Do…do you think that will be necessary?"

"Just a precaution," replied Ray, glancing at Fraser. "Y'never know."

Carrie-Ann nodded and led Ray and Fraser to her grandmother's apartment. She knocked on the door loudly. "Gran!" she called out. "Gran! It's Carrie! Are you in there?"

They waited a few seconds, but there was no reply. Ray tried the door handle but it wouldn't budge.

"Stand aside, ma'am," said Fraser and Carrie-Ann watched as he and Ray got into position and followed their well-rehearsed procedure.

"Chicago PD!" yelled Ray as Fraser kicked the door open. Ray stepped inside first, gun drawn, with Fraser at his shoulder. "Oh jeez." Ray's heart fell at the sight that greeted them.

Fraser spun around in an attempt to stop Carrie-Ann seeing it too, but it was too late.

The body of an elderly lady lay in the middle of the floor. A pool of blood had formed at her side and it was obvious from her skin colour that she was dead. A walking frame was next to her, tipped onto its side and the pieces of a smashed teacup were scattered nearby.

Fraser gently turned Carrie-Ann around by the shoulders and walked her out into the hall. "I'm so sorry," he said, gently.

Carrie-Ann couldn't speak. Her face was pale and she was physically shaking.

"Is there anyone I can call for you?" asked Fraser. "Friend? Family member?"

Carrie-Ann shook her head slowly.

"We will do everything we can to help you," Fraser continued, reassuringly.

Carrie-Ann nodded as the tears finally began to flow down her face.

Fraser heard Ray on his phone reporting the incident and within minutes the building was crawling with people. The neighbours across the hall were shocked by what had happened and they kindly offered to sit with Carrie-Ann and made her a cup of herbal tea at Fraser's suggestion.

"Definitely a homicide," Ray announced as Fraser finally joined him. "Looks like a single stab wound."

"Well I guess you don't need me after all," interjected the young assistant Medical Examiner who had been studying the body.

His sarcasm was not appreciated and Ray was about to snap a reply, but Fraser managed to stop him. "On the contrary, Mr Corelli," he said quickly. "Detective Vecchio and I would never underestimate the value of a full and thorough autopsy report."

"Yeah, well, I'm a field guy," replied the young man. "I like to be where the action is. I leave the boring lab stuff to the old guy."

Ray almost had to physically bite his tongue to avoid reacting to Corelli's disrespectful manner.

Fraser remained resolutely calm, as always. "If you are referring to Dr Gustafson then I think you'll find that his expertise in the boring lab stuff, as you put it, is second to none," he began. "And he would probably appreciate it if you refrain from contaminating the evidence any further," he added, nodding towards the camera which was swinging from Corelli's neck and dragging across the body.

Corelli quickly realised his mistake and sat upright, looking sheepishly away from Fraser and Ray.

Ray turned, shaking his head. "Who kills an old granny, Fraser?" He asked sadly. "See how frail she was? If you wanted to rob the place she wasn't gonna stop you."

"It wasn't a robbery," stated Fraser.

Ray nodded, deciding to ask his buddy later how he could be so sure of that fact already.

"How's Carrie-Ann holding up?" he asked instead.

"As well as can be expected," replied Fraser.

"I guess I should take her statement," sighed Ray. "I feel bad, y'know, about what I said earlier. The smiling thing, I mean."

"You weren't to know any of this was going to happen," Fraser pointed out.

"No, but I still…" Ray trailed off. "Oh jeez, buddy, I need to, er, I need to get over Stella. I have to, or…" he trailed off again.

"Ray, we have a murder to solve," Fraser reminded him. "Let's make that our first priority."

xXxXxXx

An hour later Fraser was sitting at Ray's desk at the police station scanning through some background information on Carrie-Ann's grandmother, Thelma Hoffman. There was nothing of note, certainly nothing that would constitute a motive for murder. Fraser glanced over his shoulder towards Lieutenant Welsh's office where Ray was talking to his superior officer. Carrie-Ann was in Interview Room One going over her statement with the help of a support officer. She remained, understandably, devastated at the death of her grandmother, particularly in such violent circumstances.

Fraser lifted his head at the sound of the door swinging open. A smile crept across his face as he saw who had entered the squad room. He got to his feet. "To what do we owe this pleasure?" he asked.

Elaine Besbriss stood in the doorway and smiled back. "Hi Fraser," she said. "I was just…I was just passing so I thought I'd stop by and see how things were going around here."

Fraser walked across to her. "Things are going…well, pretty much as they always were," he replied, tugging at his earlobe.

Elaine stared at him for a moment. He looked almost exactly the same as he had the last time she'd seen him. His hair was a little longer, perhaps, but that was all. His broad shoulders still filled out his red tunic perfectly, his slightly lopsided smile still filled her heart with joy and his blue eyes still pierced her soul.

"I'm glad to hear it," she said.

When she'd graduated from the Academy and got a placement at the Two Five, Elaine had promised everyone at the Two Seven that she would visit regularly, but as time had passed she'd found it easier to stay away. She'd resigned herself to the fact that nothing was ever going to happen between her and Fraser and, just as she'd anticipated, now she was back here, looking into his eyes, the feelings of disappointment had come flooding back and were almost overwhelming.

Elaine glanced around the squad room. "Busy," she noted.

"Homicide investigation," explained Fraser. "Ray and I discovered a body in his apartment building this evening. An eighty six year old female."

"Oh no," said Elaine, sadly, all selfish thoughts suddenly pushed aside.

"Hey, Besbriss!" The booming voice of Jack Huey interrupted her contemplation. "Long time no see."

"Hi Jack," Elaine answered, turning to the sound of the voice. "Just had to make sure you guys haven't been getting into any trouble since I left."

"Trouble? Me?" grinned Jack, warmly. "I leave all the trouble to Vecchio," he added with a wink.

Fraser watched the exchange with a growing feeling of concern. There was something different about Elaine and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"May I get you a coffee?" he offered. "Francesca has recently procured a cappuccino machine."

Elaine laughed. "I can't blame her, the coffee here always tasted like mud." Her laughter faded. "Thanks, but I should, um, I should get going."

"But you only just got here?" replied Fraser in surprise. "I'm sure Ray would like to say hello. He shouldn't be too much longer."

"No…no, really, Fraser, I…" Elaine stopped and let out a slow sigh. "I don't even know why I came here tonight. I thought…I thought…" but her voice cracked and she had to stop talking. She couldn't really explain herself anyway, she realised.

Fraser put a gentle hand on her shoulder and guided her to a quiet corner of the room.

Elaine couldn't help but gasp at how easily Fraser had reached out to her physically. It wasn't the hug she'd always dreamed of, but it was more than she'd ever experienced from him before.

 _Maybe he has changed after all…just a little…_

"Elaine," began Fraser in a low voice. "Please accept my apologies if this seems a little forward," he continued, "but, is there something wrong?"

Elaine smiled. "I almost forgot how perceptive you are," she whispered. "And, yes," she confirmed. She knew there was no use trying to lie to him. "But, it's OK. It's just something I have to work through on my own. I'll be fine. "

Fraser's eyes narrowed, unconvinced by her assurances.

"Really," she insisted. "I'm sorry, I didn't come here for help. I just wanted to see this place again. I thought it might make me feel better."

"Has it?" asked Fraser.

Elaine's smile broadened. "Yes," she replied. "Yes it has. Very much."

Fraser nodded in approval. "Well, if you, um…that is, if there's anything…what I'm trying to say is…"

"Thank you," Elaine interrupted him before his embarrassment began to eat him from the inside. "If I ever need help, you'll be the first person I call."

Fraser watched as she walked out of the squad room. Elaine Besbriss had been invaluable on countless occasions when he and the real Ray Vecchio had got themselves embroiled in one kind of problem or another. If she was in any kind of trouble now, Fraser resolved to return the favour, whether she asked for his help or not.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2.**

"So I'm lying in bed…" Ray danced around his apartment as he sang along to the radio. "Just like Brian Wilson did…" The plastic pot he'd eaten instant noodles from for his dinner lay discarded on the side. Ray glanced at it momentarily and considered throwing it out, but decided he was too tired for housework now and instead switched off the radio and headed towards his bedroom.

It had been a difficult day. The forensics team hadn't turned up any clues from the apartment where Carrie-Ann's grandmother had been murdered and so far they had no leads, no motive, nothing. Ray hoped Mort would be able to give them something to work on tomorrow after he'd carried out the autopsy.

Francesca had contacted an old friend of Carrie-Ann's who had agreed to collect her from the station and drive her home. She had been exhausted and distraught when they'd finally been able to let her go and Ray felt sorry for her. He'd flashed her a supportive smile as she'd walked away and the gesture hadn't gone unappreciated.

 _So much for ignoring this girl, Kowalski…_

Ray stopped and hung his head as the image of Thelma Hoffman lying dead in her apartment flashed into his mind. He wondered how many more murder investigations he could cope with before he went completely crazy. How much more blood and violence? How many more distraught relatives?

 _What's it gonna to take to tip me over the edge…?_

Before Ray's thoughts became too dark there was a knock at the door. Ray glanced at the clock on his microwave oven.

 _Kinda late for a visitor…_

He opened the door to find Carrie-Ann standing there.

"Hi Detective Vecchio," she said in a shaky voice. "I hope I didn't wake you," she added.

"No," replied Ray. "And call me Ray."

Carrie-Ann nodded and a strained smile appeared on her lips.

"Are you OK?" Ray asked.

Carrie-Ann shrugged. "I couldn't sleep," she told him. "So I thought I'd take a walk. I wanted to get some things from Gran's place, but they wouldn't let me in."

"Crime scene," explained Ray. "There's gonna be uniforms on the door for a couple days. If there's something special you wanted I could talk to the guys."

Carrie-Ann shook her head. "Nothing special, really. I guess I just wanted to feel close to Gran again."

Ray nodded then there was an awkward pause. Ray's mind was racing. Should he invite her in? She was here, alone, in the middle of the night. If Fraser were here he'd say it was rude to turn her away.

"Er, do you want a, er, a coffee, or something?" Ray asked. He was half hoping she'd say no.

Carrie-Ann's face lit up. "That would be wonderful, thank you, Ray."

Ray held the door open and she walked in and immediately made herself comfortable on the sofa.

"Chrissy, my friend, offered to stay with me tonight, but I sent her home," she explained. "I thought I'd be OK, but I just keep going over and over things in my mind. If only I'd gotten there sooner."

"Don't," advised Ray. "Take it from me."

"OK," smiled Carrie-Ann. "Thank you. I'll try."

Ray poured two cups of coffee and then immediately emptied them into the sink. "It's too late for coffee," he announced. "Fraser always makes me drink this Canadian tea stuff when my head is buzzing. He left me some here…somewhere…" Ray opened cupboards and drawers in his kitchen randomly until he found the box of bark tea. He boiled some more water and dropped a teabag into each cup before covering them with the water. "Fraser says to wait for three and a half minutes so it can cook properly, or, er, whatever it does," he said as he walked over carrying the mugs.

Carrie-Ann giggled. "I don't think you cook tea," she said.

Ray shrugged. "So, um, do you want to, er, talk about it?" he asked.

Carrie-Ann's smiled faded. "I guess…" she trailed off. "I miss her already. It hasn't even been twenty four hours yet. This is just so awful. I can't imagine what it must be like to…y'know…to die like that. And why? Who would do that to my Gran? She didn't have any enemies, she was just an old lady, so why would anyone want to hurt her? I'm scared, Ray. I just don't feel like I can be alone right now. I don't feel safe."

"Until we figure out a motive for the murder it's probably best that you got eyes in the back of your head," said Ray.

Carrie-Ann suddenly looked more terrified than before. "What?" she exclaimed. "You think he might be after me too?"

Ray could have kicked himself in the head. "No, no," he tried to reassure her. "That's not it. It's just, well, just be careful out there, OK? Just in case." He tried a reassuring smile, but he realised his words hadn't sounded all that reassuring.

"You'll take care of me, though, won't you?" said Carrie-Ann. "You'll keep me safe, I know you will." She put her mug of tea down and slowly her hand drifted across to Ray's knee where is settled with a delicate touch.

Ray jerked his leg away so quickly he spilt tea in his lap.

"I'm sorry," said Carrie-Ann, looking horrified.

"It's OK," said Ray, brushing the hot liquid from his jeans. "These are old, I need new ones. My mum wants to buy me new clothes, I guess I'll make her day tomorrow."

"I wasn't talking about your jeans," replied Carrie-Ann. "I meant…I was too forward just now. I'm not normally like this, I promise."

"Forget about it," said Ray, dismissively.

"I…I do like you," said Carrie-Ann.

Ray was about to sit back down, but instead he suddenly straightened. "Look, er, I don't know what you…" he began.

"I'm not trying to come onto you or anything," insisted Carrie-Ann.

 _Coulda fooled me…_

"I just want to say thanks for everything you did today," she continued.

"Just doing my job," replied Ray, wincing at the cliché.

"Well you do an amazing job," replied Carrie-Ann. She sipped at her tea and slowly Ray decided it was safe to sit next to her again. "This is good tea," she said. "Fraser was right about the three and a half minutes."

Ray nodded nervously and drank his tea too. "So, er, do you want me to call you a cab?" asked Ray, eventually, desperate to break the silence which was becoming more awkward as the minutes passed.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" giggled Carrie-Ann.

 _Yes…_

"It's OK, I'm tired anyway," she continued. "And I feel much better thanks to you. I think I could actually sleep now. Thanks for listening and thanks for the tea."

"Greatness," replied Ray and he followed her to the door to see her out. "We'll be in touch if there's any news," he said.

"Thank you," she half whispered and then before Ray could stop her she leaned in for a kiss. She was aiming for his lips, but Ray was fast enough to turn his head slightly so her lips pressed against the side of his face instead.

"Hey!" exclaimed Ray with a frown.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry!" replied Carrie-Ann and she burst into tears.

"Er, look, it's OK," said Ray. Part of him wanted to put a comforting arm around her, but he realised that would be a really bad idea under the circumstances. "Y'know, grief does things to people," he added.

Carrie-Ann nodded and sniffed then she turned and half ran along the hall.

Ray closed his front door and then spun round to lean heavily against it.

 _What the hell was that all about…?_

He let out a long sigh and went straight to bed, but he didn't get as far as falling asleep before there was another knock at the door.

"Jeez!" he exclaimed and he quickly leapt out of bed and pulled on the t-shirt he'd discarded on the floor barely ten minutes earlier.

He opened the door to find Carrie-Ann standing there again. "Um, look..." he began, deciding he had to be blunt and put a stop to whatever was going through her head before it got out of hand, but then suddenly he noticed she had blood trickling down the side of her face. "What happened?" he asked, urgently.

"There was…there was a guy…" Carrie-Ann began, her voice trembling. "He…he attacked me. Right outside. Oh god, Ray, it must be the man who killed Gran." Her voice cracked and tears started to stream down her face.

"It's OK," Ray tried to reassure her and he gently pulled her inside by the elbow. "Sit down, let's take a look at you," he said and he ran to the kitchen and pulled out a clean cloth from under the sink. "Did you see the guy?" he asked as he ran the cloth under the cold tap.

Carrie-Ann shook her head. "He just jumped me from behind," she explained. "I fell forward and hit my head on the wall. I tried to get up to run, but I couldn't. I thought he was going to kill me, but then he just disappeared."

"He disappeared?" asked Ray, sitting down beside her.

 _That's odd…If this guy was the murderer and he'd come back for another kill he would surely have made sure he finished the job…?_

Ray gently cleaned the blood from the side of her face with the damp cloth and wiped her trembling hands. He looked into her eyes, he could see she was terrified.

 _Now do I call her a cab…?_

Ray sighed. "Look, er, it's late and, er, so if you like you can stay here tonight." As soon as the words had left his lips he wondered if he was doing the right thing. "I'll take the couch," he added, just to make sure she hadn't misunderstood his intentions.

"Really?" Carrie-Ann's eyes lit up. "Thank you. And I'm sorry about before. I think I'm going slightly crazy."

"I already told you, just forget about it," insisted Ray.

xXxXxXx

"Good morning, Ray. I trust you slept well."

"Er, yeah, I guess," Ray replied, wondering, as always, why Canadians were always so goddam chirpy at this hour of the morning. "So, er, I guess you wanna come in," he added. He was hoping that Carrie-Ann would have left before Fraser arrived so he wouldn't have to explain himself to his buddy, but Fraser was always on time.

"I can wait in the hall if you prefer," replied Fraser.

Ray laughed and shook his head, finally opening his apartment door wide enough for Fraser to enter. "I don't really need you on sentry duty right now, buddy," he grinned.

Fraser stepped into Ray's apartment and his olfactory system was almost overwhelmed by the smell of strong coffee. Before he could express his concern for his friend's high caffeine intake, Carrie-Ann walked out of the bathroom wearing one of Ray's shirts and little else.

"Oh, hi, Constable Fraser," she smiled, heading for the kitchen. "Ray said you'd be here early."

Fraser said nothing, just watching her as she picked up a coffee mug and filled it from the machine.

Ray grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him over to the corner of the room. "This is not what it looks like," he hissed.

Fraser rubbed at his eyebrow with his thumbnail. "And what does it look like, exactly?" he asked.

"Oh come on, Fraser, don't give me that," sneered Ray. "I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong, OK?"

"OK," nodded Fraser.

"Good," replied Ray.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Fraser spoke again. "So, what precisely was it you thought I was thinking?"

Ray sighed and glanced over his shoulder to see Carrie-Ann carrying her coffee into the bedroom. "You thought she'd stayed the night."

"Ah," replied Fraser. "And did she?"

"Well, yeah," Ray confirmed, shuffling his feet.

"Ah."

"But not like that."

"Ah."

"Fraser, if you say 'ah' one more time I'm gonna kick ya in the head."

"Understood."

"I slept on the couch," Ray began to explain.

"Ray, you really don't have to explain yourself to me," Fraser insisted.

"I do," replied Ray. "She turned up here last night. She thought she could get into her Gran's place and get some stuff, but, er, it's a crime scene, right, so she was kinda upset."

"I see," nodded Fraser, understandingly. "This must all be very difficult for her."

"Yeah," agreed Ray. "So, I, er, I invited her in and we, er, talked for a while and she left. But then ten minutes later she was back again. Some guy attacked her downstairs."

"Good lord," exclaimed Fraser. "Was she injured?"

"A little," replied Ray. "I patched her up, gave her some of your twig tea..."

"Bark tea," Fraser corrected him.

"Yeah, that," nodded Ray, "and then she just freaked out. She thinks the guy who jumped her might be the guy who whacked her gran. What was I gonna do? Send her back out there?"

"Of course not," replied Fraser, shaking his head.

"So, er, I said she could stay."

"Was she able to provide a description of her assailant?" asked Fraser.

Ray shrugged. "Don't think she really got a look at him," he explained. "He pushed her to the ground and ran."

"It seems highly unlikely that a murderer would return to the scene of his crime and risk being identified in such a manner," said Fraser. He slowly ran his tongue over his lower lip as he pondered this new development.

"That's what I figured," nodded Ray. "It was just some jerk, maybe a purse snatcher, but she's still pretty freaked this morning."

"Understandable," agreed Fraser. "I'll speak to Inspector Thatcher. I'm sure she'll be agreeable to Miss Webber staying at the Consulate until she feels safe again."

"No," Ray replied quickly.

Fraser's eyes narrowed.

Ray could have kicked himself for allowing his buddy to pick up on the tone in his voice. He threw his hand up in the air in resignation. "I know what I'm doing," he insisted, turning on his heels and walking towards the kitchen.

"And that would be what, exactly?" asked Fraser.

Ray spun back to face Fraser. "Nothing, OK? I'm not doing nothing. Anything. I'm not doing anything wrong."

Fraser nodded slowly. "Right you are," he said.

"Don't give me that look," snapped Ray, pouring himself a coffee.

"I apologise," said Fraser, quickly. He paused before adding, "What look?"

"The look that says yesterday he insisted he was gonna ignore this girl and now he's lettin' her sleep over," replied Ray, throwing a handful of candies into his coffee up with a splash.

"But I thought this arrangement was entirely innocent?" Fraser's brow furrowed into a puzzled frown.

"It is," nodded Ray.

Just then the door opened and Carrie-Ann appeared again, this time dressed in her own clothes. "I left your shirt on the bed," she said. She walked over to Ray and smiled at him. "Thank you for last night," she said and kissed him on the cheek.

Ray almost choked on his coffee.

Carrie-Ann giggled. "Sorry," she said, blushing slightly. "I didn't mean it to sound like that." She looked over at Fraser. "I guess Ray told you what happened," she said to him.

"Yes," Fraser confirmed with a nod. "I'm sorry to hear about the incident. How are you feeling this morning?"

"A little sore," she replied. She pulled back her hair to reveal the bruise and grazing to the side of her head. "I'll be OK. I just freaked out. Ray took good care of me, though. He is a very sweet man."

"Indeed," replied Fraser sincerely as Ray refused to make eye contact with him.

"I can't believe that guy is still out there somewhere," continued Carrie-Ann.

"Rest assured we are doing everything we can to discover the identity of your grandmother's killer and bring him to justice," said Fraser. "And to that end, Ray, we should be going."

"What? You can't leave me, Ray," said Carrie-Ann suddenly. She grabbed onto his arm tightly.

Ray was a little stunned. "Er, Fraser and I have got to get to the station," he said. "You can stay here, you'll be fine." He tried to peel her hand away, but her fingers were clasped so tightly that she refused to budge.

"No!" she said. "Please! I'm scared, Ray." Suddenly she broke down and flung her arms around his neck with such force that Ray stumbled backwards. Her breathing suddenly became shallow and rapid.

"Hey," he said, trying to loosen her grip so he could breathe. "It's OK," he added, soothingly with a pleading glance at Fraser.

Fraser dutifully took his cue. "I'll meet you downstairs," he said. "Dief," he commanded and he quickly left the apartment with his wolf at his heels.

As they walked along the hall Dief barked his opinion on the events of the past few minutes.

"I agree she does seem somewhat clingy, to use the vernacular," agreed Fraser. "Although she is grieving for her grandmother so it is perfectly understandable."

Dief barked again.

"I'm sure Ray knows what he's doing," replied Fraser.

Dief sat down and growled in the back of his throat.

"Well of course you're entitled to your opinion," said Fraser as he started walking down the stairs

Another bark and a yap.

"No I'm not willing to make a bet with you," frowned Fraser, turning to look back at Dief. "Now unless you plan to spend the whole day sitting there I suggest you…" but before he could finish his sentence he heard Ray's voice calling his name. The tone immediately suggested urgency.

Fraser ran back up the stairs and turned the corner to see Ray standing in the doorway of his apartment with Carrie-Ann slumped unconscious in his arms.

"Fraser!" he called again sounding even more worried than he had the first time. "I think she fainted, or something," he added as his buddy joined them. "She was, er, hyper…er, breathing."

"Hyperventilating," said Fraser and Ray nodded as he carried her back inside and laid her on the sofa.

Fraser got down on one knee and checked her breathing and pulse.

"She didn't want me to leave her alone," said Ray. "She totally lost it. Like a, er, a panic attack. I…I…" but he trailed off as he noticed the look on Fraser's face. "What is it?" he said anxiously.

"Nothing," replied Fraser. "She'll be fine," he added and he gently rolled Carrie-Ann onto her side.

Just then her eyes flickered open and she let out a deep sigh. "What happened?" she asked as Ray and Fraser slowly helped her to a sitting position.

"You just fainted," Ray explained.

"Oh," said Carrie-Ann, sheepishly. She closed her eyes and tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Ray looked at Fraser. He didn't know what to do for the best. Her collapse had shocked him and he couldn't help but feel responsible. He wasn't sure how he'd got into this situation. Suddenly he was in far deeper than he knew he should be, but he couldn't help himself and he didn't know how to get out of it.

"Listen," he said gently, putting an arm around Carrie-Ann's shoulder. "I'm not gonna leave you, OK? I just need to talk to Fraser for a second."

Carrie-Ann nodded and Ray and Fraser got to their feet.

"I should, er, probably stay here a while," said Ray as he led Fraser to the door. "Try to calm her down. I'll catch up with you later."

Fraser glanced over his shoulder at the distraught woman sitting on Ray's sofa and nodded slowly. "Just be…that is I wouldn't want…" he began, but he couldn't get his words out. "What I'm trying to say is…"

"It's OK, Fraser," grinned Ray. "I'm not gonna do anything dumb. Not this time. I'm just bein' friendly, nothing else."

Fraser nodded, seemingly unconvinced. "You might want to make sure that Carrie-Ann is aware of your position."

"Missionary," replied Ray with a wink.

Fraser frowned.

"I'm kidding," said Ray. "Inappropriate?" he added questioningly.

"I don't need to remind you that we are investigating the murder of Carrie-Ann's grandmother and as far as we are aware she was the last person to see her alive," Fraser pointed out.

"You don't really think she stabbed her own granny to death do you?" asked Ray incredulously.

"No," replied Fraser. "She would not have had the strength in her upper arm to inflict such a deep penetrating wound. I'm merely pointing out that morally…"

"I know, I know," agreed Ray. "This might look weird." He let out a sigh. "Give me an hour," he said. "Or two," he added. "I'll meet you at the station."

Fraser nodded and he and Diefenbaker left Ray's apartment for the second time that morning.

xXxXxXx


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3.**

"Ah, Fraser, I was hoping to see you this morning." Mort smiled broadly as Fraser walked into the morgue.

"Good morning, Mort," Fraser replied. He took off his belt and brown tunic and hung them on the hook behind the door.

"Is that Thelma Hoffman?" he enquired glancing at the examination table where the distinctive shape of a body lay under the green sheet.

Mort nodded. "I have completed my preliminary examination." He turned and picked up a clipboard with his handwritten notes attached and passed it to Fraser.

Fraser scanned through Mort's initial observations and his estimation of time of death . He turned over the page and frowned. "And the murder weapon?" he asked.

"I'm glad you asked about that," replied Mort. "I have an idea, but I'd appreciate your thoughts." Mort pulled back the green sheet just enough to reveal the site of the fatal stab wound.

"Of course," replied Fraser and he pulled a pair of latex gloves from the box on the side and snapped them on. "Hmmm…" he said as he peered closely at the wound, carefully probing with his gloved finger. "The initial cause was something small in diameter with a sharp point, but there's also massive trauma to the surrounding tissue. I haven't seen this type of wound since…" he trailed off as he pondered the evidence. "An arrow?" he queried, straightening his back and looking at Mort.

"That was my first thought," Mort confirmed. "But it's not something I see every day. I suspect you have far more experience of such wounds than I."

Fraser nodded. "Usually in caribou," he replied. "The Inuit still rely on traditional hunting methods in many regions."

"The arrow punctured the right pulmonary artery," Mort explained.

"And she bled out in minutes," sighed Fraser, sadly.

"She would have been unconscious in seconds, she would not have suffered," Mort assured him.

"And then the arrow was ineptly removed by the bowman," said Fraser, removing his gloves and placing them in the clinical waste receptacle. "Causing the additional damage."

"And, unfortunately, destroying evidence in the process," shrugged Mort. "Which I assume was the intention. However, I did find this." He walked to the side and picked up a small, plastic lidded dish containing a tiny sliver of something Fraser couldn't instantly identify. "It was embedded in the wall of the left atrium."

Fraser took the dish and held it up to the light, squinting as he focussed on the tiny fragment. He turned and glanced at the large microscope which sat on the side. "May I?" he asked.

"Be my guest," nodded Mort. "I'm afraid my eyesight is too poor to be of any use to you."

"It was good enough to spot this," Fraser pointed out with a lopsided smile.

He walked over to the microscope and slid the dish under the lens, adjusting the instrument to bring the material into focus.

"The victim was in poor health," said Mort. "I have requested her medical records for completeness, but in my opinion she had only months to live. A year at most. Her heart was weak, she was in the advanced stages of COPD…"

"Fibreglass," Fraser interrupted him.

"No, cardio-pulmonary disease," replied Mort with a wink.

Fraser couldn't help but smile at Mort's dark humour. "This is a fragment of fibreglass," he reiterated, nodding towards the microscope. "Most likely from the shaft of the projectile. Whilst traditional arrows had a solid wooden shaft, modern materials and production methods mean arrows are now made of fibreglass, aluminium or carbon fibre."

"Do you think it's enough for an identification?" asked Mort.

Fraser shrugged. "We'll have to make some enquiries, there can't be that many skilled bowmen in the greater Chicago area. Thank you kindly for this."

Mort nodded an acknowledgement as Fraser picked up his tunic and belt before heading for the door, but just as he was about to leave he spun back around to face Mort.

"May I ask your advice now?" he said, tugging on his right earlobe.

"Of course," smiled Mort.

Fraser let out a slow breath. He wasn't sure how much he should divulge. "If an otherwise fit and healthy woman in her mid-thirties suffered a panic attack, as well as the obvious hyperventilating you would expect symptoms such as heart palpitations, dizziness…"

"Hypertension, sudden hyperhidrosis," added Mort.

Fraser nodded slowly. "That's what I thought," he said. "So if the only obvious symptom was the shortness of breath you would conclude…" he trailed off.

Mort frowned. "I'm sorry, Fraser, I'm not sure what you mean."

Fraser sighed. "The victim's granddaughter," he began to explain. "This morning she appeared to be experiencing what can only be described as a full blown panic attack, ultimately leading to a brief fainting episode. However, my cursory examination revealed only a slightly increased heart rate. No sign of raised blood pressure, no sweating…"

"Are you suggesting this woman was feigning the attack?" Mort interrupted. "Why? Is she a suspect?"

"Not at this juncture," explained Fraser. He drew his thumbnail slowly across his eyebrow and wondered what Ray and Carrie-Ann were doing. There might be a perfectly good explanation for what had happened earlier at Ray's apartment, but it did seem rather suspicious. Fraser couldn't quite understand what Ray was thinking with regards to Carrie-Ann, but he suspected that Ray himself had no more idea than he did. It certainly appeared as though she had a strategy, but to what end Fraser had no idea.

 _There is no evidence to suggest she had anything to do with her grandmother's murder…is she simply acting on romantic feelings towards Ray? I misinterpreted Victoria's intentions towards me…I was completely wrong about her…is Carrie-Ann another Victoria?_

"Fraser? Are you alright?" Mort's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Sorry. Yes. I should be going," he said with a nod of appreciation to Mort. "I need to speak to Ray."

xXxXxXx

"How you feelin' now?" Ray asked as he stood up to change the cassette tape.

"Much better," smiled Carrie-Ann. "I can't believe we have the same taste in music," she added.

"Yeah," nodded Ray. He had planned to spend maybe an hour calming her down and then drive her home, but an hour had passed and he had no intention of making her leave. They'd talked a little about her family – her parents were both dead, she had a brother living in Virginia who she barely spoke to – and how important her Gran had been in her life. As the morning wore on Ray realised that he was really enjoying her company. She certainly seemed to be enjoying his. "Sure I can't get you up on your feet?" he asked with a grin.

Carrie-Ann giggled. "I told you, I'm a terrible dancer," she replied.

"I could teach you one day?" Ray suggested without hesitation.

Carrie-Ann smiled. "I'd like that," she said. "Very much."

"OK," nodded Ray.

"I guess I should leave you alone," said Carrie-Ann, swinging her legs round off the sofa.

"Er, I guess," Ray answered. "But, er, maybe we could…" he trailed off.

 _What are you doing, Kowalski…?_

He had been about to ask her out for dinner, but he pulled back.

"Maybe you could, er, come down to the station later and we'll go over a few things. See if there's anything that, y'know, we missed?" he suggested.

Carrie-Ann nodded. "I keep going over things in my mind," she said. "Now I'm feeling calmer, maybe I can piece it all together?"

Ray nodded and they walked towards the door, but something distracted Carrie-Ann. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed, looking at a pile of VHS tapes by Ray's bookcase. "Do you have every Bears game on tape?" she asked.

Ray shook his head. "Nah, only the big ones," he replied. "I'm trying to get Fraser to understand the rules. Canadian sports have freaky rules."

Carrie-Ann laughed. "I love the Bears, I've followed them since I was, like, eleven," she said and Ray flashed her a smile. "Maybe we could watch the game together next weekend?" she suggested.

Ray let out a slow breath. "Sure," he said. "Fraser has some stupid conference thing that evening so he's already backed out."

"I really think we can win again this season," said Carrie-Ann, excitedly.

Ray grinned and before he knew it another half an hour had passed as they chatted about football. The only person Ray ever got the chance to talk about football with these days was Dewey. And Dewey was clearly an idiot who knew nothing about football because his team was the Lions, just because his father had apparently played one reserve game for them back in the Sixties. Stella had never understood football, or baseball, or hockey for that matter and Ray rarely got to watch a game live on TV when they were married unless she was out. Ray never wanted to watch sports when she was home anyway, not if it meant sacrificing time with the woman he loved. Stella didn't always appreciate the sacrifices he made for her, though, especially towards the end of their marriage.

 _Maybe Stella never understood me at all…?_

"I really should go now," said Carrie eventually. "I've taken up too much of your time already. I'm sorry."

Ray shrugged. "Don't mention it," he said. "It's been…" but he trailed off before he said something stupid and meaningless like 'nice' or 'fun'.

Carrie-Ann smiled and hesitated. Ray knew what she wanted, her body language was making her feelings for him obvious. Last night she had moved in for a kiss and Ray had pushed her away. It had been the right thing to do at that moment, Ray knew that, but now things were different. Now, after just a few hours of talking, Ray felt like he'd known her forever and a kiss suddenly seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

 _Don't screw this up…_

Ray's inner voice screamed at him as he moved towards her.

Carrie-Ann leaned in, but just as their faces were inches apart she stopped. "You don't have to do this," she whispered under her breath.

"I want to," replied Ray and before the final word had left his lips they were locked in a passionate kiss.

xXxXxXx

"Ah, there you are. I was about to send Dief to look for you."

"Funny," sneered Ray as he finally breezed into the squad room that afternoon. He glanced at the piles of papers Fraser had neatly stacked on his desk. "That looks…unnatural," he commented.

"These are the documents I have concluded bear no relevance to our investigation," Fraser began, by way of explanation. "This pile contains information we need to revisit in order to rule out any connection and this pile is, in my opinion, of most importance."

"That's the smallest pile," observed Ray.

"Yes, well, unfortunately we have very little to go on," replied Fraser. "We do, however, have Mort's preliminary report and, more importantly, a fragment of the murder weapon. It was an arrow."

"An arrow?" queried Ray, perching himself on the corner of his desk. "As in a bow and arrow?"

"Yes, Ray."

"Oooh, like Robin Hid!" exclaimed Francesca, who had just arrived at her desk.

"Um, I believe you mean Robin Hood," Fraser corrected her.

"Hood?" frowned Francesca. "No, I'm talking about the old English legend. He hid in the forest so he could steal from the rich and give to the poor. Robin Hid. Come on, Fraser, you must have seen the Costner movie."

Ray glanced at Fraser in disbelief. He didn't know much about English legends, but he'd seen the movie and Kevin Costner definitely did not play Robin Hid.

"I'm afraid I haven't seen that movie," Fraser admitted. "Perhaps I am mistaken after all," he added graciously and Ray rolled his eyes.

"Robin Hood," Francesca muttered as she walked away. "They didn't even have cars back then, why would he be called Robin Hood?"

"Is it me, or is Frannie getting worse?" asked Ray with a grin.

Fraser declined to answer.

"Did you learn anything from Carrie-Ann this morning?" he asked instead, his mind refocussing on the case.

Ray's eyes widened.

 _What does that mean? Does he know? Do I have lipstick on my face…?_

"Anything that may help the investigation," Fraser clarified, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied his friend's reaction.

 _Well done, Kowalski. If he didn't know before he sure does now…_

"We kissed, OK. That's all. She's a great girl," he said quickly. "I don't know what it means, probably nothin', but it was…it was good, y'know."

Fraser remained silent. He wasn't sure what to make of Ray's sudden confession. He had planned to discuss the possibility of Carrie-Ann feigning her panic attack, but now it seemed like the wrong moment. It most likely meant nothing anyway. Women were confusing creatures at the best of times, he concluded. Carrie- Ann was nothing like Victoria.

 _No other woman is quite like Victoria…_

"Say something, buddy," urged Ray.

"What would you like me to say?" asked Fraser, snapping himself back to the present.

Ray shrugged. "Just let me have this one, OK? My head is already screwed, just let me have this. Remember Louanne Russell? Remember how I blew that one?"

Fraser did, indeed, remember. Although the circumstances had been complicated, Ray still blamed himself for ruining his chance of a relationship with her.

"I doubt it'll go anywhere with Carrie-Ann once she really gets to know me," continued Ray, "but tomorrow some junkie might put a bullet in my brain so right now I'm gonna live for the moment."

Fraser nodded. "I can't fault your logic, Ray," he said.

"Greatness!" exclaimed Ray, clapping his buddy on the back in his excitement. "So, let's go bag ourselves a Robin Hid."

xXxXxXx

Thelma Hoffman had rarely left her apartment in recent months since her health had begun to deteriorate rapidly so there were few people she had regular contact with. Fraser and Ray decided to speak to the nurse at the clinic where Carrie-Ann took her for medical check-ups. The nurse was genuinely upset to hear of Mrs Hoffman's death and agreed to forward all her medical records once they received the necessary paperwork. Until then there was little else she could tell them.

Their next stop was a sporting goods shop which sold archery equipment. To Ray's dismay, the shop owner was very knowledgeable about traditional hunting methods and was happy to talk to Fraser for what seemed to Ray like hours about the various types of wood and bone used to make the bows. At one stage they got into quite a heated discussion about the benefits of maple over spruce for making arrow shafts. Ray mostly just sniggered every time Fraser said the word 'shaft'.

"Well that was a complete waste of time," sighed Ray as he finally managed to drag Fraser out of the shop.

"On the contrary, Ray," replied Fraser. "We now know precisely the type of arrow used in Mrs Hoffman's murder and, more importantly, where to look for our perpetrator."

"We do?"

"Weren't you listening at all, Ray?" frowned Fraser.

"You lost me when you started talking about turkey feathers," replied Ray.

"Well, Ray, one is more likely to find the fletching made from turkey feathers nowadays, as opposed to the more traditional owl feathers," Fraser explained.

"That is so…boring," said Ray, blankly. "Anyway, I thought you said the arrow used in the murder was made of fibreglass?"

"It was," confirmed Fraser. "Fibreglass arrows are cheaper than their steel or carbon fibre equivalents and are therefore popular among beginners to the sport of archery," he began. "So I suggest we visit local archery clubs and make enquiries."

"OK," agreed Ray and he pulled his phone from his pocket as they walked back towards his car. "Frannie," he said after dialling the number for the station. "Archery clubs. I need addresses." Ray rolled his eyes as Francesca spoke. "Please," he added after she'd finished complaining about his rudeness. "OK, thanks, Frannie." Then he turned to Fraser. "She said give her fifteen minutes and she'll have something for us."

"Well we could start with the Chicago Archery Club based in Washington Park," suggested Fraser.

Ray looked blankly at him.

"The oldest archery club in Chicago," Fraser added.

"Oh, right, yeah," nodded Ray, trying to look like he knew what the Mountie was talking about.

Fraser shook his head in dismay. "You do know where Washington Park is, don't you, Ray?"

"Course I do!" exclaimed Ray. "South side. I have lived in this city my whole life, y'know."

Fraser nodded. "I've yet to have the pleasure," he said as they climbed into Ray's shiny black GTO.

"Of what?" asked Ray with a puzzled frown.

"Of visiting the Washington Park area," explained Fraser as he placed his hat carefully on the dashboard of the car. "As a place of significant historical interest it is referenced several times in popular literature, but I've not yet had the opportunity to see it."

"Significant historical interest?" repeated Ray, even more puzzled now than he was before. "I thought it was just a big sports field."

Fraser looked at him in amazement. "Well of course to start with there was the the ceremonial planting of a tree by President Ulysses S Grant in 1879," he said.

Ray still looked blank.

"And then the well documented racial tension after the First World War," continued Fraser, hoping Ray would show a hint of recognition, but he did not. "Have you never read the Studs Lonigan trilogy by James T Farrell?"

"OK, buddy, just pretend for a moment that I don't know anything about, er, history or literature and tell me what the hell you're talking about," said Ray, shaking his head in despair.

As soon as the words had tripped off his tongue, Ray regretted asking for an explanation as Fraser spent the rest of the journey eagerly explaining all about the history of the area. Ray had to admit, though, that Fraser made a very good history teacher. Maybe if Mrs King's classes in high school had been as interesting he would have learnt all this already, he concluded. All he could remember from history class was getting a glimpse of Mrs King's panties as her infeasibly short skirts rode up every time she reached up to write at the top corner of the blackboard.

"Ray, Ray, Ray, RAY!"

Fraser's voice snapped Ray out of his reminiscing.

"Sorry, buddy, I was listening," he insisted.

"Ray, we're here," said Fraser, slightly concerned that Ray had been driving while clearly distracted by his thoughts. He was concerned that Ray's fledgling relationship with Carrie-Ann was quickly taking over his mind.

"Oh, right," said Ray and stopped the car.

They walked over to the field to find two men and a woman practicing archery. Ray flashed his badge, introduced himself and explained that they were investigating a homicide involving a bow and arrow.

"I'm the team captain," said one of the men. "Charlie Williams." And he shook each of their hands in turn. "What's this about a murder?"

"We can't dilute too much right now," said Ray.

"Divulge," hissed Fraser.

"Or that," agreed Ray. "But, er, we need to speak to everyone on your team. I need a list."

"Everyone?" exclaimed Williams. "But that's over eighty names. I don't think I can allow that."

"And right now each one of them is a suspect," snapped Ray. "And I'm the one with the shield so I get to tell you what's allowed."

"We would just like to eliminate people from our enquiries," Fraser said quickly, calming the tension.

Reluctantly, Williams went to the clubhouse to find the information he had been asked for. While he was gone Ray and Fraser took the opportunity to chat with the other two people. They were a married couple who had been at the club for over five years. They had an alibi for the night of the murder which Ray felt sure would check out.

"Well that's two we can cross off the list," Ray noted as Williams returned.

He handed Ray a printout of the names and addresses of each member of the club. "I can assure you, Detective, that no one on my team is a murderer."

"Your faith in your associates is admirable," noted Fraser. "We'll be in touch, thank you kindly."

xXxXxXx

Ray and Fraser visited three more archery clubs that afternoon and, armed with a long list of names which they agreed they would start working through in the morning, Ray dropped Fraser off at the Consulate before returning to his apartment.

"Constable Fraser, what do you think?"

Fraser looked up from his desk to find Constable Turnbull standing in the doorway holding up a large piece of paper which he had covered with pictures of Canada cut out of various travel magazines.

Fraser blinked. Turnbull appeared to have more glue and paper stuck on his face than on the paper. He quickly realised that Turnbull's project was in aid of Inspector Thatcher's request to brighten up the entrance hall. She felt that the dark wood made a rather sombre first impression on visitors to the Consulate. Fraser felt sure, however, that the Inspector hadn't meant for Turnbull to brighten up the place with what looked like an Elementary School display.

"It's…it's…" Fraser tried to think of something nice to say, but was struggling. "It's very creative," he said, eventually.

"Thank you," beamed Turnbull, proudly.

"You might want to go and wash your face, Constable," suggested Fraser, pointing to his own forehead as a clue.

Turnbull frowned and felt around his face until he came across one of the offcuts of paper which was stuck to his eyebrow. "Oh dear," he said and he quickly discovered another piece. "If you'll excuse me," he said and hurried away to the bathroom.

Dief yapped.

"He's trying very hard, Dief," replied Fraser. "We should give him credit for that at least."

Dief responded with another yap and Fraser was about to attempt to defend the junior Mountie again when there was a knock at the front door. Fraser walked out of his office and down the hall to open it.

"Good evening, Elaine," he said, somewhat surprised to find the former Civilian Aid standing on the doorstep. "Do come in," he added with a smile.

Elaine walked into the light of the hallway. Her shoulders were slumped and her hair was uncharacteristically messy. Fraser was immediately concerned. "Elaine?" he said. "What's wrong?"

Elaine lifted her head and Fraser could see she'd been crying. "I can't do it," she announced. "I can't do this alone. I thought I could, but I can't. I need someone I can trust."

"You can trust me," Fraser assured her.

Elaine nodded. "I know," she said. "I need to talk to you, Fraser. I'm in trouble."

"I'll get my coat," replied Fraser with a sympathetic half-smile. "I have some dry cleaning to collect for Inspector Thatcher. It's a lovely evening, will you walk with me?"

Elaine managed a tiny smile in return. All the doubts she'd had about coming here were immediately washed away. "Thank you," she said.

 _Oh I've missed you, Benton Fraser…_


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4.**

"I've been suspended."

Elaine's words stunned Fraser, but he didn't show it. "Ah," was the only thing he said.

The light was beginning to fade as they walked along the streets with Diefenbaker bounding off in front, only stopping occasionally to sniff at a lamppost or rummage amongst some discarded food wrappers.

"They say I deliberately lost a piece of evidence," Elaine continued. "And a murderer walked because of it."

"I know you, Elaine," said Fraser, earnestly. "And I know you would not do that."

"Thank you," smiled Elaine. "I'm glad someone believes in me."

"I'm sure once the investigation is complete you will be completely exonerated," continued Fraser.

"I wish I had your confidence," sighed Elaine, her smile quickly fading. "None of it makes sense, Fraser. I know I logged in all the evidence. I know I completed all the right forms. I'm always so careful, but the leather belt has just disappeared with no trace that it ever existed in the first place and I'm being accused of being a dirty cop." Elaine's voice cracked on those last words.

"Hmmm." Fraser knew that Elaine was not a corrupt police officer. He couldn't believe how anyone who had been working with her since she graduated from the Academy would think such a thing of her either. "Do you have any explanation at all?"

Elaine shook her head. "Not really," she said. "But a few strange things have happened lately. I didn't really think anything of it at the time, but now…" she trailed off and sighed deeply. "Or perhaps I just screwed up?" she continued. "Maybe I made a mistake and I've ruined my career…my whole life…" her voice cracked again as emotion overwhelmed her.

"I've never known you to make a mistake, Elaine," said Fraser.

Elaine covered her face with her hand and struggled to keep her composure. Diefenbaker trotted over and licked the back of her other hand and she reacted by patting his head.

"Have a seat?" suggested Fraser, indicating over to a free table outside a café which was busy with customers. "Can I get you anything? Coffee, or hot chocolate, perhaps?"

Elaine managed a small smile as she sat down. "Chocolate would be nice, thank you," she said and Fraser disappeared inside the café.

Diefenbaker jumped up and put his front paws on her lap. "I'd almost forgotten just how perfect he is for me," she said to the wolf. "Kind and thoughtful and now he's buying me hot chocolate. Why aren't we living in married bliss somewhere already?"

Dief whined and yapped.

"You're not a woman, you wouldn't understand," she replied, rubbing his ears affectionately.

Fraser quickly returned with a tall cup of hot chocolate topped with cream, mini-marshmallows and chocolate sprinkles for Elaine and a glass of orange juice for himself. Elaine's eyes widened as she saw the luxurious treat coming her way.

"I wasn't sure of your preferred choice of topping," explained Fraser, somewhat apologetically. "So I just said yes to everything."

Elaine laughed. "Thank you," she said. "This is just what I need," she added, plunging her finger into the cream and offering it to Dief to lick. Then her smiled faded a little. "I mean it, Fraser. Thank you," she repeated sincerely.

"My pleasure," replied Fraser. "It troubles me to see you in distress."

Elaine nodded. "I need this job, Fraser, it's my life," she said, emotion returning to her voice. "I can't imagine being anything else than a police officer. I worked so hard to get here and now…now I might lose everything…" she had to stop speaking to take a deep breath. She really didn't want to break down in front of Fraser, but she knew she needed to talk to someone and the more she talked about it the more emotional she became.

Then Fraser put a supportive hand on her arm and it was enough to tip her over the edge. He quickly offered her his handkerchief as the tears flowed. "I'm scared," she finally admitted, wiping her eyes. "I think there's something going on. Something big and I have no idea what to do about it."

"What do you mean, exactly?" asked Fraser. "You mentioned earlier that you'd observed some odd occurrences."

"Yes," nodded Elaine. "My partner is on sick leave, she broke her leg in a skiing accident, so I've got a temporary partner," she began to explain. "Blake is…well, frankly he's incompetent. One day he's going to get himself killed, or me, or an innocent bystander, I'm sure of that."

"Have you raised your concerns with a senior officer?" Fraser asked her.

"That's just it, Fraser," replied Elaine. "My Lieutenant seems to be deliberately ignoring the issues. Other officers have said the same."

"Why would he do that?" Fraser asked, with a puzzled frown.

Elaine sighed. "Because…" she trailed off and looked over her shoulder afraid someone might overhear. "Because I think he might be involved in corruption," she said finally in a low voice. "And he uses Blake to carry out his dirty work. Poor Blake is so dumb he doesn't realise what he's doing."

"Do you have any evidence to support this?" asked Fraser, slightly stunned at Elaine's claim.

"Nothing concrete yet," replied Elaine. "But I'm working on it. I think I was getting close and Lieutenant Lai panicked, so he framed me for the missing evidence."

Fraser slowly moistened his lower lip with his tongue. "You're making a very serious allegation," he pointed out.

"I know," agreed Elaine, stirring the last of the cream into her hot chocolate. "And it scares the hell out of me, but…" she trailed off.

"I understand," nodded Fraser. "And I promise you that I will do everything I can to help you. I suggest your first move should be to raise your concerns with Lieutenant Welsh. You know he can be trusted."

Elaine smiled and sipped at her drink. She'd almost forgotten how sexy it sounded when Fraser pronounced Welsh's rank the Canadian way. "Yes, I know and I've thought about going to Welsh before, but I just don't know how high up this thing goes," she explained. "The last thing I want is for Welsh to put his career on the line."

"Lieutenant Welsh will want to stamp out any corruption in the Chicago Police Department," replied Fraser. "At any cost."

"But what if I'm wrong?"

"As a Civilian Aid your proficiency and dedication was invaluable to Ray and I on many occasions," began Fraser. "You were never wrong then and I don't believe for one moment that has changed now you have a badge."

Elaine wanted to believe him, she really did, but she had so many doubts that she didn't know what to think. "Alright," she said, after finishing the last of the hot chocolate. "I'll talk to Welsh in the morning."

"I'll be there to support you if you need me," said Fraser with a sincere nod.

Elaine smiled, too choked up to speak. She rose from her chair and Fraser gently rested his hand in the small of her back and it suddenly felt to Elaine as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She immediately knew she'd done the right thing by talking to Fraser and, more importantly, it was at that moment that she knew everything would be alright.

They walked the rest of the way to the dry cleaners in silence. The elderly woman behind the desk smiled warmly when she saw Fraser walk in.

"Good evening, Mrs Dorrett," beamed Fraser.

Diefenbaker bounded up to the old lady who quickly produced a packet of cookies from under the counter and gave him one before tucking the packet away again to stop Dief scoffing the lot.

"I was starting to think you'd forgotten about these," she said and she hurried as fast as she could with her walking stick to the back of the shop, quickly returning with four outfits on wire coat hangers wrapped in plastic. "Is she back in town?"

"Inspector Thatcher is due to return from Ottawa tomorrow," replied Fraser, taking the hangers from her. "How is your knee today?"

"Much better now," Mrs Dorrett answered with a smile. Then she addressed Elaine. "He's so kind, he made me this walking stick last week," she explained. "He noticed that my old one was too short. I was really struggling with it – my knees and my back were so painful - so he carved this beautiful new one for me." She leant on the counter and passed the walking stick to Elaine so she could inspect the intricate workmanship. "You hang on to this man, dear, he's a keeper," she added with a wink.

Elaine smiled and glanced at Fraser as she handed the walking stick back to Mrs Dorrett. She was proud that someone might think she and Fraser were a couple. She knew that it would never be true, no matter how hard she wished, but if Mrs Dorrett wanted to believe it she didn't mind at all.

Fraser's face quickly turned a deep shade of crimson. He cleared his throat and glanced apologetically at Elaine. "Oh, no, Mrs Dorrett," he began, turning back to her. "Miss Besbriss and I are not together. Well, of course we are together at this moment…in as much as we are together in your dry cleaning establishment, but we are not in any way, um, er…romantically linked. Not that I wouldn't…that is, not that I would be in any way perturbed if such a situation was to, um, er…but that's not…um…" he trailed off and looked desperately at Elaine for help.

"Fraser and I are just friends," smiled Elaine and Fraser nodded emphatically in agreement.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry to hear that," said Mrs Dorrett.

Elaine smiled ruefully.

 _So am I…_

"But he's a good friend to have, if ever you need a walking stick," added Mrs Dorrett.

Elaine laughed. "I'll try to remember that," she grinned.

"Well, thank you kindly for your services as always," said Fraser, who was still a little flustered. "If you would be so kind as to add these to the Consulate account? We will settle at the end of the month."

With that Fraser hurried out of the shop with Dief and Elaine close behind him. He glanced at Elaine and was pleased to see her smiling. Her allegations of corruption at the Twenty Fifth Precinct were quite shocking, but he felt sure once Lieutenant Welsh became involved Elaine would no longer have to fear for her career.

As they turned the corner they heard shouting. Instantly both Fraser and Elaine were on alert. As they got closer they could see two uniformed officers were already on the scene of what appeared to be an argument between two teenaged girls. One of the officers recognised Fraser and waved.

"Everything alright, gentlemen?" Fraser enquired as he waved back.

"Yeah, we got this one, Constable," replied the officer.

Fraser nodded and he and Elaine continued walking. Elaine glanced over her shoulder to see one of the girls being put in handcuffs and led towards the waiting police car while the other officer was comforting the second girl who was clearly distressed. "Ever since I was a little girl I've dreamed of becoming a cop," said Elaine with a wistful sigh.

"Me too," replied Fraser, then he immediately realised his mistake. "Er, not that I was ever a little girl, of course," he said quickly, rubbing at his eyebrow furiously with his thumbnail.

Elaine chuckled. "I'm the youngest of nine," she continued. "I have five brothers and three sisters. No one else in my family had any desire to become a police officer, only me."

"Nine?" repeated Fraser in surprise. "I remember your sister from your graduation ceremony, but I did not realise you had so many other siblings."

"My sister, Corinne, is the only other one of us still living in Chicago," explained Elaine. "We're scattered throughout four different states and three countries now," she said. "I miss them all. We were so close growing up, we had to be. We weren't destitute or anything, but there wasn't a lot of money to go around. It wasn't easy sometimes."

"I'm sorry to hear that," replied Fraser.

"My mom worked three jobs and my dad took all the overtime he could to make sure we didn't want for anything, but it meant we hardly ever saw them," continued Elaine wistfully. "We lived in a decent neighbourhood, but occasionally there was trouble. We were burgled on more than one occasion and it was heartbreaking to see things my parents had worked so hard to buy like the TV just taken away from us. I remember thinking that if I was a cop I could stop it happening to other people and that's when I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I was probably six or seven years old."

Fraser smiled. He could imagine Elaine as a determined young child and he was not at all surprised that she had reached her goal all these years later. "Why did you not enter the Academy after graduating high school?" he asked.

"I couldn't afford to," replied Elaine, sadly. "So when the Civilian Aid position came up I jumped at the chance. I thought I'd only be at the Two Seven for a year, but it took longer than I imagined to save up the money. My graduation was the proudest day of my life." She smiled as she remembered the ceremony and the crazy antics which had interrupted the proceedings, resulting in her making her first arrest - caked in mud - before she'd even collected her shield.

Suddenly Diefenbaker began barking loudly and he ran off across the road and into the park.

"Dief! Come back here!" shouted Fraser, although he knew the wolf wouldn't be able to hear him.

Dief ran a few more metres before turning round and running back to Fraser, still barking.

"No, we're not walking through the park, Elaine is wearing suede boots," said Fraser shaking his head.

"These are old boots," offered Elaine with a shrug.

Dief continued barking and running to and fro in front of them.

"What on earth has got into you?" asked Fraser. "If you want to relieve yourself then please just get on with it."

Dief jumped up at Elaine and then at Fraser before turning sharply and running back to the park.

Elaine looked at Fraser in confusion. She'd never seen Dief acting quite like this before. "Is he OK?" she asked.

Fraser thought for a moment. "No," he said suddenly. "Something's wrong. Come on."

Fraser ran off after Dief and Elaine followed. As they got a little further into the park they could see Dief had stopped and was sniffing and pawing at something on the floor. Elaine couldn't make out what it was, but as they got closer she became aware that whatever it was, was making a pitiful, whining noise. Fraser suddenly thrust the dry cleaning into her arms and ran over to join Dief at the scene.

"Oh my god, it's an animal!" Elaine exclaimed. "It sounds like it's hurt…" she trailed off as she got closer to where Fraser was now kneeling at the animal's side. "Oh it's a little dog…"

The scruffy brown dog was whimpering and writhing on the floor in pain. Dief nuzzled into his face and Fraser gently stroked his back with one hand and made soothing noises.

"Oh, the poor little thing," said Elaine and she kneeled down opposite Fraser. Then, in the fast fading light, she saw what was causing the animal so much distress. "Is that…is that an arrow?" she asked in disbelief.

The long, white arrow could clearly be seen protruding from the dog's side and blood was flowing freely, soaking into the already badly matted fur around the wound.

"Yes, it is," confirmed Fraser as he examined the animal. "Looks like it's nicked an artery."

"Didn't you say that your murder victim was killed by an arrow?" she asked.

Fraser nodded. He had no idea what the connection was between this dog and their homicide investigation, but his first priority was to help the animal.

As Fraser worked to try to stem the flow of blood they heard a voice calling out. "Billy! Billy! Here boy!" Then a figure appeared in the shadows. He was wearing a filthy raincoat "Hey, have you guys seen my dog?" asked the man, staggering slowly towards them.

"Yes, at least I assume this is your dog," replied Elaine. "I'm afraid he's been injured."

The man tried to quicken his pace, but appeared to be having co-ordination difficulties. "Billy!" he exclaimed when he got close enough to see. "What did you do to him?" he asked aggressively. He was carrying a bottle in a brown paper bag and he took a swig from it.

"We're police officers, we found him like this," explained Fraser.

The man tried to take another step, but instead he stumbled and ended up in a heap on the ground next to Elaine. Instantly Elaine could smell the unmistakeable stench of alcohol on his breath.

"We have to get him to a vet," said Elaine, urgently, her attention returning to Billy the dog.

Fraser shook his head. "No time," he replied. "He's losing blood too quickly, he won't survive the journey. We have to stabilise him before we try to move him and we can't do that unless the arrow is removed."

Elaine nodded and Dief yapped in agreement.

Without warning, Billy's owner lurched forward and tried to grab the arrow, but Fraser clutched his wrist tightly to stop him. "No," he said seriously. "If you simply pull it out you'll cause further trauma," he explained. Then he turned to Elaine. "Which is precisely what happened to our murder victim," he said.

The similarities between the two incidents were far more than co-incidental, Elaine realised, but why would anyone want to shoot a scruffy old dog with an arrow? It made less sense than the killing of the elderly grandmother.

"Elaine, there should be a green, cotton blouse," continued Fraser, nodding towards the dry cleaning they'd just collected for Inspector Thatcher. "Please tear it into strips, I'm going to need bandages."

Elaine nodded and ripped open the plastic, discarding a flimsy dress, until she found the blouse. She began tearing it up, wondering for a moment what Inspector Thatcher was going to say when she found out.

"Sir, what's in the bag?" Fraser asked the man who was now sitting cross legged on the ground.

"Vodka, but I paid for it!" slurred the man, clutching the bottle to his chest. "Or someone gave it to me," he added, with a confused look. "I can't remember now…"

"That's of no importance at this juncture," snapped Fraser with uncharacteristic impatience. "I need alcohol." He pulled out his penknife and snatched the bottle from the man's grasp. "In the absence of a seventy percent ethanol solution, this will have to do."

Elaine continued to make bandages as Fraser doused his penknife in the vodka. Dief yapped and pawed at the dog whose whimpering had quietened to the occasional whine.

"I know," said Fraser to his wolf. "But we've done this before, if you remember."

Dief yapped a response as Fraser attempted to tease out the matted fur, clipping away as much as he could so he could see what he was doing.

"Well canine anatomy is remarkably similar to that of the polar bear," replied Fraser, dismissively. He glanced at Elaine who was looking nervous. "Try to hold him still," he said, but the little dog was squirming and twitching in pain.

Fraser began to gently stroke Billy's furry neck, trying to calm the little animal. Then suddenly Fraser twisted his fingers, pressed them hard against the back of Billy's head and in an instant the dog was completely still.

"Oh my god!" exclaimed Elaine. Stunned at what she'd just seen. "Did you…? I thought you were going to try to save him?"

Fraser took a second to realise what Elaine was thinking. "Oh no," he replied quickly. "I simply rendered him temporarily unconscious. It's an Inuit technique." 

"Oh." Elaine breathed a sigh of relief.

"But we only have approximately seven minutes before he starts to come around," continued Fraser.

Elaine nodded seriously and made sure she was ready with the makeshift bandages. She couldn't bear to look as Fraser made the incision, but he worked quickly and within seconds the arrow lay on the floor. Elaine passed over the bandages and Fraser wrapped them tightly around Billy's body

Fraser checked the dog's pulse. It was still strong and he allowed himself to breathe a little easier, although he knew the poor animal was not out of the woods yet. He gathered Billy into his arms and got to his feet.

Elaine quickly wrapped the arrow in some of the plastic from the dry cleaning to preserve any fingerprints or other forensic evidence. Then she helped the dog's drunken owner to his feet and ran to hail a cab.

xXxXxXx

Ray got out of the GTO and reached into the back to pick up the bunch of flowers he'd just bought. He looked at them in mild disgust.

 _They looked classier at the gas station…_

He didn't know if he was doing the right thing, but he hadn't been able to stop thinking about Carrie-Ann all evening, so he'd jumped in the car and driven straight to her apartment building.

Ray took a deep breath and walked up the steps to her door and knocked. He was more nervous than he'd expected to be. What if the kiss this morning hadn't meant anything to Carrie-Ann? What if she was just acting weird because of the grief and she really didn't want to see him again, let alone kiss him? What if…

The door opened and Carrie-Ann looked shocked at first, but she soon broke into a huge smile and flung her arms around him. "I was hoping you'd come," she said into his neck.

Finally she released him so he could enter her apartment. It was smaller than his, he noticed, with simple furnishings. "Oh, er, these are for you," he said, realising he was still clutching the flowers.

"Thank you," she said, taking them from him and running off to find something to put them in. She returned with a jug which had a large chip out of the rim. "I don't own a vase," she admitted.

"Neither do I," laughed Ray. He hesitated awkwardly.

 _Say something, Kowalski. Don't just stand here like a jerk…_

"So, um…" he began, but he dried up.

Carrie-Ann giggled. She walked over to him and put her index finger on his lips. "Don't speak," she said and she slowly replaced her finger with her own lips. Kissing him softly.

Ray wrapped his arms around her and the kiss intensified. He tried to hold back, but he couldn't. It was too good and he was too needy to stop now and it seemed that Carrie-Ann felt the same way.

Carrie-Ann pressed herself against him and together they staggered backwards towards the sofa, stumbling and landing on the cushions entwined in passion.

Carrie-Ann lifted herself slightly so she could start pulling up his t-shirt.

Ray's mind was still conflicted.

 _Oh god…I can't do this…I barely know her…_

But despite his thoughts he couldn't stop his body reacting to the intense stimuli, so he put up no resistance.

This wasn't what Ray had planned at all. He'd wanted to see her tonight, but he'd thought maybe they could talk some more, get to know each other a little better first before they ever got as far as contemplating sex. Ray knew it was an old fashioned attitude, but he couldn't shake it.

 _This is why I never get any…_

"Ray…" she breathed into his ear. "I need you…"

Ray closed his eyes.

 _No one needs me…you just need comfort…_

Finally he was back in control and he sat upright, pushing her gently away. "Just…just stop, OK?"

Carrie-Ann looked at him with a mixture of hurt and confusion.

Ray slipped his hands in hers and smiled. "Not now…not yet," he said and to his relief, after a few seconds pause, she nodded.

Then she burst into tears.

"Hey," said Ray, sympathetically and he pulled her into his arms. "It's OK, it's OK."

"I think I'm going crazy," she sobbed.

"Nah," replied Ray, dismissively. "I'm the crazy one."

Carrie-Ann kissed him tenderly. "No you're not," she said.

They settled back on the sofa together, with Carrie-Ann resting her head on his shoulder and they talked and talked. Ray opened up a little about his difficult relationship with his father and Carrie-Ann told him about the deaths of her parents. There were a few more tears, but it felt so natural and comfortable to Ray that he didn't mind.

After almost an hour Ray's phone rang. He looked at Carrie-Ann apologetically. "Sorry, I have to get that," he said. Carrie-Ann nodded and Ray pulled his phone from his pocket. "Vecchio," he snapped. He ran his hand through his spiky hair when he heard the voice on the other end. "Fraser, this had better be important."

Ray listened as Fraser told him about Billy the dog who was currently being cared for by a vet.

"A dog?" Ray wasn't sure if he'd heard correctly. "OK, er, well I dunno what it means, but it must mean somethin'…yeah…yeah…OK. See you tomorrow."

"What was that about a dog?" asked Carrie-Ann when Ray put his phone away.

"Something queer," Ray replied. "A dog got shot with a bow and arrow, just like your gran."

"What?" exclaimed Carrie-Ann. "A dog? Why would the murderer shoot a dog? What a low down stupid thing to do!" Then she burst into tears again.

Ray was taken aback by her outburst. He pulled her into another hug. "It's OK, Fraser got it to the vet in time," he said.

Carrie-Ann pulled away from him and turned away without saying a word.

Ray was starting to get worried about her. He felt a real connection with her and he hated seeing her struggling to cope. "Come back to my place," he said.

Carrie-Ann spun round and stared at him with a look of confusion.

"I'll sleep on the couch again," Ray clarified quickly. "I just don't think you should be alone tonight."


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5.**

"A dog? Did you say a dog?"

Inspector Meg Thatcher stood with her hands on her hips and stared in disbelief at her subordinate.

"Yes, sir," replied Fraser. "That is correct."

The early morning sunlight streaming in through the window behind the Inspector framed the elegant curves of her silhouette and stirred familiar feelings in Fraser that he would never understand.

"My blouse?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you have any idea how much that blouse cost, Fraser?" Meg sighed and walked across to look out of the window at the busy street outside.

For a moment, Fraser did not respond. He was too busy trying to hide his disappointment at her reply. Naturally he'd expected her to be upset at the destruction of her designer blouse, but once she'd found out what had happened, Fraser assumed she would at least be understanding. Maybe even congratulate him. However she was just angry. Perhaps her trip hadn't gone as well as she'd hoped? He made a mental note to ask her about it later.

"With respect, sir, it was used to save a life," he pointed out, keeping his voice even.

"Yes, you told me. The life of a scruffy little dog. Not the Prime Minister," snapped Meg. As soon as the words had left her lips she regretted it, realising how it must have sounded.

Fraser was an expert at keeping his emotions in check – his Mountie Mask – but there had been a few occasions recently where he'd allowed her in. There was something between them that neither of them could explain and every now and again those feelings came to the fore. Because of that Meg had started to be able to read him, only when he let his guard down and that almost never happened, but it had just happened then. She'd disappointed him and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Are you suggesting, sir, that the life of a dog is worth less than the life of a human being?" Fraser was standing to attention, staring straight ahead and he clasped his hands even more tightly behind his back as he spoke. "Or…the cost of a blouse?"

Diefenbaker, who had been observing the exchange from the corner of the room, whined. Fraser chose to ignore the lupine expletive.

Meg swallowed hard at Fraser's words and turned to face him. "No, Fraser," she replied eventually. "Of course not."

"I see," Fraser answered.

"How…how is the poor little creature?" asked Meg after a second of awkward silence.

"I spoke to the veterinarian this morning," Fraser explained. "He is expected to make a full recovery."

"That's good news," said Meg, glancing awkwardly at her feet. "Perhaps we could send some flowers to his owner? Do you have the address?"

"Billy's owner is homeless," replied Fraser.

"Oh," mumbled Meg. This was going from bad to worse. "Well, perhaps there is some other way we could help? A food parcel, maybe? Or clothing?" Meg was aware she was sounding desperate, but she couldn't stop. "Does he need blankets? We might even be able to get him in touch with a shelter. I'll put Turnbull onto this at once." She picked up a pencil and scribbled something on a piece of paper to remind her.

"That's very thoughtful of you, sir," Fraser replied, his voice devoid of any emotion. "May I be dismissed?" he added, finally making eye contact with her.

The sight of his deep blue eyes always made Meg gasp. She felt terrible. She'd made the mistake of letting Fraser see a glimpse of the cold side of her nature. It was a part of her that she did not like, but had learnt to live with over the years. She had a warm, loving side too, though and she wondered if Fraser would ever understand that she was not simply a hard hearted career woman. There was much more to Meg Thatcher than that and she desperately wanted to show him, but the risks that came with opening herself to him – to anyone – were just too great to contemplate at this moment in time.

So for now she would have to let him believe she was a hard hearted career woman who cared little for animals, or the homeless.

His blue eyes burned into her soul.

 _Oh god…he knows…_

"Yes, Fraser," she snapped. "Dismissed."

Fraser turned on his heels and all but marched out of her office, but just before he got out of the door he spun around and spoke again. "I will, of course, replace your blouse at the earliest possible opportunity."

 _Bastard…He couldn't resist one more little dig..._

"There's really no need, Constable," Meg replied, using his rank to convey her authority.

Fraser just nodded and then turned and left.

xXxXxXx

"Well, I'm sorry, buddy, but, er, what did you expect from her?" Ray leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. Fraser had just told him about the incident earlier that morning in Inspector Thatcher's office and Ray, unlike Fraser, wasn't at all surprised.

Fraser put the file he'd started looking through back down on Ray's desk and shrugged. "Well, I…" he began, but he couldn't put it into words. At least not openly.

"Compassion?" suggested Ray, raising his eyebrows questioningly. "A congratulations-on-a-job-well-done? Maybe a medal?"

Fraser didn't answer.

"A kiss?"

Fraser froze like a statue.

Ray let the chair fall back so all four legs were on the ground again before he stood up. "Sorry, buddy," he said with a grin, giving Fraser a friendly slap on the back. "Thing is, the Ice Queen is not like normal women. Thought you might have figured that much out for yourself by now."

Fraser watched his friend walking over to the filing cabinet, but he couldn't respond.

 _No…she is most definitely not like normal women…but not in the way Ray means…_

Ray turned round to look at his silent friend. "See, it's like this, Fraser," he began. "A guy heroically saves the life of a cute little puppy dog and any normal woman would be all 'Oh my god!'" Ray was speaking in a silly, high-pitched voice now. "'That is so adorable!'" He clasped his hands under his chin and fluttered his eyelashes at Fraser. "'You're my hero!'"

Fraser's mouth slowly dropped open.

Ray turned to Francesca and Elaine who were pouring over some printouts. "Am I right, ladies?" he asked.

Elaine and Francesca both looked up at Ray, then at each other for a moment before each gave a shrug of resignation and turned back to Ray, nodding in unison.

"You see!" exclaimed Ray. "This is your problem, Fraser," said Ray, throwing his arms in the air for emphasis.

"Which problem, exactly?" Fraser was rather puzzled.

"The Ice Queen!" exclaimed Ray. "Women like her don't care about puppies and kittens," he continued.

"Women like her?"

"Women like her have, er, other priorities," Ray tried to explain. "And it sure as hell has nothin' to do with puppies, or kittens...or babies," he added.

"Babies?" Fraser tugged at his earlobe and frowned. "I'm not sure Inspector Thatcher would..." he began, but Ray interrupted.

" One day your life is going just great and then the minute you start talking about babies suddenly she's working late every night, going to meetings, three day conferences in Seattle," Ray strode back over to the filing cabinet and roughly shoved a file in the middle of the top drawer. "And before you know it she doesn't have time for you anymore and all those dreams you had? Your future? Gone. Over. Dead as a doodoo." He stormed back to his desk.

"Dodo." Fraser corrected him as he quickly tidied the filing cabinet.

"What?"

"Dead as a dodo...are we still talking about Inspector Thatcher?" Fraser frowned in confusion.

"Thatcher?" Ray sneered. "Jesus. No. We're talking about Stella!"

"Ah. I see."

"Um, Ray," said Francesca, with a sideways glance at Fraser. "When you've finished ranting, you might want to see this fax." She waved it under his nose in a deliberately annoying way.

Ray scowled at her and snatched the piece of paper out of her hand.

"Thank you kindly, Francesca," said Fraser as she walked back to Elaine.

Just then the doors to the squad room were flung open with a crash and Lieutenant Welsh strode in with a face like thunder.

Elaine glanced at Fraser. They had planned to speak to Welsh about her problems this morning, but judging by the look on his face, Elaine thought now was probably a bad time. She hoped Fraser would think the same…but apparently he didn't. He strode across to meet the Lieutenant as he headed for his office.

"Good morning, sir," Fraser addressed him.

Welsh stopped walking and scowled at the Mountie. "If you say so, Constable," he growled.

"Um, I was…that is, Officer Besbriss and I were wondering if we could have a moment of your time," said Fraser, finally beginning to have the same thoughts as Elaine about their timing.

Welsh glanced across the room and noticed Elaine for the first time. "Oh," he said. "I didn't see you there."

"Sir," squeaked Elaine, nervously, with a respectful nod.

Welsh turned back to Fraser. "Is this important?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, it is," confirmed Fraser, standing to attention.

Welsh paused for a moment, glancing back and forth between Elaine and Fraser before finally giving a silent nod and striding into his office.

Fraser quickly fell into step behind him and Elaine leapt from her chair and followed them both into the office, closing the door behind them.

Francesca gave Ray a puzzled look. "What's all that about?" she asked.

"Beats me," shrugged Ray. He knew Elaine had been with Fraser in the park yesterday so he assumed this had something to do with that. Fraser didn't tell him everything and why should he?

 _I don't tell him everything either…I didn't tell him Carrie-Ann spent the night at my place again…not that there's anything to tell…_

"You OK, bro?" asked Francesca, snapping Ray out of his thoughts.

Ray was taken aback by her apparently genuine concern.

"Yeah," he replied, dismissively. "Although, maybe, er, maybe you can answer this question."

"I can try," replied Francesca, nonchalantly. She and Ray had a complicated relationship, made more complicated by the fact that they had to pretend he was her brother. She often wondered what might have happened if they'd met under other circumstances. For now it was easier for both of them if they continued with a typical sibling love-hate relationship.

"OK, so I've got this friend, old pal of mine," began Ray, perching on the corner of her desk.

"You want advice for 'a friend'?" queried Francesca, miming quotation marks around her last two words and trying to stifle a smirk.

Ray sighed and began to regret ever starting this. "Yeah, a friend," he confirmed. "Anyway, there's a girl on the scene…"

"Isn't there always?" winked Francesca.

Ray leapt up from the desk. "You know what, forget it," he sneered.

"No, wait," Francesca responded, grabbing at his arm to stop him leaving. "C'mon, I'm sorry, I'm listening."

Ray looked at her for a moment and saw a brief glimpse of genuine remorse. "OK," he said and sat himself down again. "So, my pal only just met this girl the other day and he likes her, y'know. She seems like a nice girl and she likes him."

"Well that's a good start," Francesca pointed out.

"Yeah," agreed Ray. "Except it's kinda complicated for, er, for reasons…"

"Reasons?"

"Just reasons, OK?" Ray sighed. "So the thing about this whole, er, thing is that, er, she likes him a lot."

"And he doesn't feel the same way?"

"Well, he doesn't know yet," shrugged Ray. "But she's really eager to, y'know, move forward, but he's…er…he's…"

"So she wants sex and he doesn't," said Francesca folding her arms across her chest. "Welcome to the eve of the twenty first century!"

"No, he does," insisted Ray. "He really, really does…at least that's what he told me," he added. "And if it wasn't for the, er, the reasons we probably wouldn't be having this little chat anyway."

"So, what was the question you wanted me to answer, exactly?" frowned Francesca.

"Well, why does a girl…a woman, I mean…why does a woman want sex?" asked Ray.

Francesca's mouth dropped open. "Why does a woman want sex?" she repeated, incredulously. "You mean because only guys actually want sex, right? And us women are just supposed to do it when we're told to?"

"No!" exclaimed Ray. "That is not what I meant. You're twistin' this on purpose."

Francesca glared at him for a moment. "Well," she began, eventually. "Maybe she just has weird taste in men and she actually finds you attractive?"

"My friend, not me," Ray corrected her.

"Oh, right. Your friend," repeated Francesca, sarcastically.

"I'm being serious here, Frannie," frowned Ray in frustration. "I really need to know this. Gimme a list of options."

"OK," agreed Francesca. "There's the love at first sight angle, which I totally believe in, by the way," she began. "Maybe your 'friend' is giving off confusing signals? Or there's lust, desperation, or loneliness. Those three kinda go together. Like she hasn't had any forever and it's driving her insane. It's an animal instinct kinda thing."

"So she'd take the first guy that came along?" queried Ray.

"Uh huh," agreed Francesca. "And then she'd feel like crap the next morning," she added with a sigh.

Ray didn't need to say anything. He'd been there and done that once or twice since his divorce and by the look on Francesca's face she'd had similar experiences. Maybe that was it? Maybe Carrie-Ann was just lonely and because he'd been kind to her she'd been unable to control her animal instincts?

 _But Fraser has been nice to her too…and all girls want to get Fraser into bed…so why me?_

"Hey," said Francesca, her voice a little softer now. "There's one more thing you need to tell your pal about," she explained. "Sometimes women use our bodies…we use sex…to get what we want. Now, on behalf of the female of the species, I'm not proud of that, but it's a means to an end."

Ray nodded slowly. He was a detective, he knew how these things worked. He'd investigated enough cases where the only power a woman had over her victim was sex and she'd used it to her advantage. Of course he'd investigated hundreds more where the man was the one with all the power – every rape case he'd ever been assigned to for one thing – but Francesca had a point.

 _But what could Carrie-Ann possible want with me?_

He glanced at Francesca, his face etched with confusion.

Francesca responded with a warm smile. "Look, bro," she said. "My guess? She likes you…him. That's all. My advice to your friend is to do whatever makes him happy."

Ray nodded and managed a small smile and a nod of thanks to his pretend-sister.

 _Happy…I haven't been happy in a long time…_

Ray quickly jogged back to his desk just as the door to Welsh's office opened and Elaine and Fraser walked out.

"Keep in touch, Besbriss," Welsh's voice boomed after them.

Elaine turned to Fraser and let out the breath she'd been holding through almost the whole meeting. "I'll call you later," she said and gave him a brief hug before grabbing her bag from Francesca's desk and walking out of the station.

"Be careful!" Fraser called after her, aware that his face had turned a bright shade of red. He could feel Francesca's eyes burning into him, but he refused to look at her. He cleared his throat and just stared straight ahead.

"C'mon," said Ray, suddenly, leaping to his feet and grabbing his coat from the back of his chair. "Let's go."

"Go where?" asked Fraser, relieved at the interruption. He picked up his hat from Ray's desk and followed his friend out of the door.

Ray waved the fax that had come in a few minutes ago at Fraser. "Arrows, Fraser," he said, heading for the stairs. "The one you pulled outta that dog was the same as the one that killed Thelma Hoffman. I don't have a clue what any of this info means, but let's go ask that smarmy guy at the, er, the historical, er, literary park."

"Washington Park," said Fraser, taking the fax from Ray and quickly scanning down the details about the arrows they'd been provided with. "Hmmm…"

Fraser added a few more 'hmmm's as they walked to the car, much to Ray's annoyance.

 _At least he's making sense of it…_

As they drove towards the Washington Park neighbourhood Ray admitted to Fraser that Carrie-Ann had spent another night at his apartment. If Fraser had an opinion on the news he didn't show it.

"I wish this wasn't all happening during the investigation into her grandma's murder, Fraser," sighed Ray. "It just makes it…I dunno…weird."

"In what sense?" asked Fraser.

"I dunno?" shrugged Ray as they waited at a red light. "She's eager to…well, to move things along, if you get my drift, but…" Ray trailed off.

"You don't share her enthusiasm?" suggested Fraser.

"That's what Frannie thought I meant," replied Ray, shaking his head.

"You've discussed this with Francesca?" Fraser was taken aback.

"Er, well, not exactly," replied Ray. "See, buddy, it's like this. She wants me. Carrie-Anne, not Frannie."

"I'm relieved to hear that."

"And I would. I really would, in a heartbeat," Ray tried to explain. "I like sex. Jesus, I love sex! And god, Fraser, she's pretty and smart and we have a tonne of stuff in common and…well, and she likes me. What more could I possibly want?"

Fraser hesitated. It may have been intended as a rhetorical question, but there was an obvious answer. He didn't want to upset Ray, but at the same time he could see his friend was already suffering. Maybe the direct approach was the only way to help him?

"Stella," he replied eventually.

Ray's head snapped round at the sound of his ex-wife's name and glared at Fraser.

 _He's right…of course…_

Fraser immediately felt guilty. "Well, it's just that…if you don't mind me saying…it seems you have been mentioning her more and more in recent weeks," he said, tugging slowly at his earlobe. "I thought you had reached a certain level of peace…but…" he stopped, not sure how much more he should say.

Ray sighed as the lights finally changed to green. "Yeah, well, I guess I haven't," he admitted.

They drove the rest of the way in silence, Fraser allowing Ray some time alone with his thoughts.

xXxXxXx

"I figured we'd start at the biggest archery club in Chicago because, er, because I really didn't like that jerk we spoke to last time we were here," said Ray as he strode across the grass.

Diefenbaker bounded ahead, sniffing the first tree he came to before relieving himself against it.

A man and a woman in their seventies were out at the targets practising. They both acknowledged Fraser and Ray's approach with a wave.

"Good morning," Fraser called out. "We're looking for Mr Williams."

"Clubhouse," replied the man.

"Thank you kindly," replied Fraser and they headed towards the whitewashed building.

"The arrow from the dog was brand new," said Ray, going over what they knew. "Lightweight, intermediate competition arrow...whatever that means."

"A variety of different materials are used in the construction of arrows, depending on their purpose," Fraser began. "For example, aluminium..."

But before he could launch into another long educational lecture, Charlie Williams appeared from the clubhouse.

As soon as he saw Fraser and Ray he stopped dead in his tracks and rolled his eyes. "Gentlemen, I really don't have time to talk to you now," he said.

"Gee, I'm sorry ," replied Ray sarcastically. "But here's the thing. This is a murder investigation and we need to ask you some questions."

"Can't it wait?" replied Mr Williams in exasperation. "We have a big competition at the weekend and I have a hundred things to organise."

"Will there be an intermediate level in the competition?" asked Fraser.

Williams frowned. "Yes," he replied. "Why?"

"And that big list of names you gave me the other day," Ray continued, ignoring his question. "Any of those guys in this competition?"

"Yes," confirmed Williams. "But if this is your way of accusing any of my members of murder then I already told you, you're wrong. My team is made up of good people, Detective."

"I'm sure it is," sneered Ray. "But we need you to give us a list of names."

"Why?" asked Williams.

Ray was very close to losing his temper. "'Coz otherwise I've gotta go get a warrant to seize your records and I really hate paperwork!" he half-yelled.

Charlie Williams looked at Fraser pleadingly.

"It's true. He really hates it," replied Fraser with a straight face.

"Oh for god's sake!" exclaimed Williams. "Alright. Wait here," he added and ran back towards the clubhouse.

Ray began pacing up and down while they waited. Fraser watched as Dief stalked a squirrel, making mental notes to speak to his wolf later about his rusty technique.

"She's still at my place, y'know," said Ray, eventually.

"Who?"

"Carrie-Ann!" exclaimed Ray. "Jeez, buddy, keep up!"

"Sorry, Ray."

"And I'm OK with that," continued Ray. "I mean, I'm still sleeping on the couch so…" Ray trailed off and sighed.

He'd never been so confused about a woman before. Usually things were clear cut. Usually he'd meet a girl he was attracted to and it was fairly obvious if anything was going to happen and then it would happen and then it would be over. Short and sweet and simple. Not that there had been many of those encounters since his divorce, but at least they had been uncomplicated. This was different. Carrie-Ann was different. And the problem was that Ray couldn't put his finger on why.

"It's a queer way to meet a girl, don't y'think?" he said as he finally stopped pacing. "Investigating her gran's murder, I mean."

"Is there a normal way?" asked Fraser.

Ray shrugged.

For a brief second Fraser thought of Victoria again. They'd met on a freezing mountain while he was pursuing her for her part in an armed robbery. That certainly wasn't a normal way to meet someone…but considering how that particular liaison had ended Fraser decided his experience really wasn't relevant to Ray's situation. He closed his eyes and forced the image of Victoria out of his head. It bothered him greatly that it still took effort to do that, but now was not the time to worry about his own thoughts.

"Perhaps you should look at it like this?" began Fraser, turning to his friend. "Not that I'm any kind of expert, you understand, because I'm not. And, well, I wouldn't insist that you follow any kind of advice I gave you unless you felt particularly compelled to. So as it stands, what I'm going to say is just that. Advice, I mean, which you can choose to follow, or not, as you see fit. You know, there's an old Inuit tale that begins…"

"Fraser!" Ray threw his arms in the air in exasperation. "Advice I need. An old story about a moose climbing a mountain I don't. OK?"

"Understood," nodded Fraser. "Well, it's just that it occurs to me that your relationship with Stella developed after the incident in the bank. Which, by anyone's reasoning, is not a normal way to embark on a romance."

"When I wet my pants," nodded Ray, thoughtfully.

"I wasn't going to mention that particular detail," noted Fraser. "But yes."

"So it, er, it doesn't matter how it started, is that what you're saying?" asked Ray.

Fraser nodded. He wasn't sure if he was giving Ray good advice, but it seemed to be calming his friend so that, at least, was a good thing. "You did say you were going to live for the moment," he reminded Ray.

"Yeah, I did say that," agreed Ray. "Not easy, though, is it. Being all carefree and, er, sponter, um, sponday…"

"Spontaneous," Fraser finished his sentence for him.

Ray nodded. Living for the moment, he'd discovered, was definitely not as easy as he thought it might be.

 _Guess I overthink things too much to be spontaneous. But I gotta do something, or I'll scare her away…_

"Excuse me."

Ray snapped out of his introspection at the sound of the voice. It was the elderly woman who'd been practising archery when they arrived.

"Can I help you?" asked Fraser with a smile.

"I'm Irene, I'm a member here. I couldn't help overhearing and I think I might be able to help," continued the woman. "I have this thing turned up to eleven when I'm outside," she added with a wink, tapping the hearing aid which was tucked over her right ear.

Fraser had never heard of a hearing aid with a volume setting of eleven, but decided it was irrelevant to the investigation.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna take Fraser's advice," said Ray. "She's a great girl, I don't wanna lose her."

Irene looked at Fraser in puzzlement.

"I believe Irene was referring to the homicide investigation," said Fraser.

"Oh, right, yeah," said Ray, looking at the floor in embarrassment as he realised his mistake.

"Do you have some pertinent information?" asked Fraser.

"Maybe…" replied the woman, glancing over her shoulder nervously. "I think I know exactly who the murderer is."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6.**

Shall we take a seat?" suggested Fraser, offering his arm to the elderly woman.

"Thank you, Constable," smiled the woman, gratefully. "It is Constable, isn't it?" She linked her arm in his and they walked across to a wooden bench at the side of the field.

"Yes, Constable Benton Fraser . I first came to Chicago on the..."

"Can it, Fraser," snapped Ray.

 _If I hear him recite that story one more time I swear I'm gonna kick him in the head..._

"You mentioned you may have some information for us," Fraser prompted as he sat next to Irene.

"Well, it's just that I heard you say you were investigating a murder," said Irene. "And that you think the murderer is one of the members here."

"It's very early stages in the investigation," explained Fraser. "At this juncture we have no suspects, but the murder was carried out with a bow and arrow and we are simply trying to rule people out of our enquiries."

"Have you got a name for us?" asked Ray, keen to move things along.

"Well, the list of members isn't going to do you any good," continued Irene. "There are two men here with us on a temporary basis, they're on a programme."

"A programme?" Ray queried.

"To reintegrate them into society by joining sports clubs," explained Irene. "They were in prison."

"Names?" prompted Ray impatiently as he pulled his notebook from his pocket.

Irene hesitated and glanced across to the clubhouse.

"If you'd feel more comfortable discussing this in confidence at the station…" began Fraser.

Irene shook her head. "No, I'm fine," she said defiantly. "It's just…" she paused and looked over to the clubhouse again. There was no sign of Mr Wilson. Then she looked over towards the field where the elderly man was still practising. "My friend, Eric, thinks I'll get myself into trouble," she explained. "Because they're…well, they're not white men so Eric thinks people will think I'm being prejudiced. But I've lived in this neighbourhood my whole life, I've seen the horrible things people do to each other because of the colour of their skin and I hate it. You know all about the history of this area, I assume?"

"Yes," nodded Fraser, seriously and Ray nodded too, hoping he wouldn't have to answer any questions on the subject.

"I was very young during the worst of it, of course," continued Irene. "But it taught me never to judge anyone based on their race."

"I wish everyone was as enlightened as you, Irene," replied Fraser. "So, you must have good reason to suspect one of the men you mentioned?"

Irene nodded. "One of them, Darren, seems eager to get on with his life. He's become a valued member of the team in the few short weeks he's been with us," she said with a smile. "But the other one, Kris, he's…well he's not finding it quite so easy to adjust. He's very aggressive. He's upset a lot of people."

"Kris…what?" asked Ray, scribbling down the name in his notebook. "And, er, what make you think he's our guy?"

"Kris Nelson. I heard him talking on his cell phone," explained Irene. "I don't know who he was talking to, but he was saying something about getting revenge on the people who put him in prison."

Ray glanced at Fraser with a frown. It seemed very unlikely that Thelma Hoffman had any connection to Nelson's conviction, but of course they would look into it.

"Thank you kindly," smiled Fraser. "We will thoroughly investigate this new information."

Ray sighed despondently. Irene had been so sure she had the name of a suspect for them, but from what she'd just said there was no evidence to link Nelson to the murder. It sounded to Ray like he was just a guy who was angry with the world.

Fraser helped Irene to her feet.

"Thank you, Constable," she said. "I really hope this doesn't harm the reputation of our wonderful club," she added. "This place has been my sanctuary ever since my husband passed two years ago. I know other people my age do something dull and boring like bridge, but Eric – he lives in the same building as me – suggested archery."

"You are fortunate that your background as a gymnast has left you with the physical strength for this type of activity," noted Fraser.

"How did you know?" exclaimed Irene.

"Forgive me," said Fraser, humbly. "But I couldn't help noticing your excellent posture and the muscle tone in your arms and shoulders is notable for someone of your… of your…"

"My age, Constable," winked Irene. "It's alright, you can say it, I'm old. But yes, you're right, I was the 1946 regional balance beam champion," she said proudly. "And runner up in the parallel bars."

Ray rolled his eyes.

 _If Fraser doesn't wrap this up soon she's gonna be talking about the war for the next three hours…_

Fortunately for Ray, Charlie Wilson appeared from the clubhouse. "Here it is," he said, slightly out of breath after running over to join them. "Sorry I took so long, I got caught on an important phonecall."

"Thank you kindly," said Fraser. "Is Kris Nelson on this list?"

Wilson glared at Irene. "When will you learn?" he hissed at her, jabbing a finger in her direction as he spoke.

Irene was shocked at the outburst.

"Hey, back off," said Ray, deliberately standing between Wilson and Irene. "Didn't your mother teach you to respect your elders?"

Wilson shook his head. "She's got something against Kris," he protested. "I know her type, always causing trouble."

"You know that's not true," replied Irene defensively. "I've grown up surrounded by trouble makers, I've seen people with hate in their eyes and I've done everything I can to change things around here. I don't want any trouble, but if he is a murderer then the colour of his skin has nothing to do with it."

Wilson sighed. Fraser regarded him closely as the man fought to control his temper. "I'm sorry," he said eventually. "I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. Of course you're right, the murderer needs to be caught."

"No one will think any less of you if the perpetrator is associated with this club," Fraser tried to reassure him.

"Unless you're an accessory," noted Ray, dryly. Fraser glared at him, but Ray didn't care. Wilson was getting on his nerves and he couldn't help the little dig.

Wilson walked off, wisely choosing to ignore Ray.

xXxXxXx

"Hey…oh, you cleaned!" Ray stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway of his apartment and surveyed his home with wide eyes.

"I hope you don't mind," smiled Carrie-Ann, nervously. "I got a little carried away. I guess I just needed to keep busy today."

Ray laughed. "Er, of course I don't mind," he replied. "You and Turnbull should swap notes."

"I really need to meet this Turnbull," she replied, flicking the switch on the coffee machine. "I've heard so much about him."

"No you don't," said Ray, shaking his head. "Guy's a jerk. Well maybe not a jerk, just a, er, a moron."

Carrie-Ann giggled.

"Listen, we got a lead this morning," said Ray, joining her in the kitchen.

Carrie-Ann's face fell as she felt emotion welling up inside her.

Ray reached out and touched her arm tenderly. "OK," he said. "Let's not talk about that."

Carrie-Ann nodded gratefully.

"Y'know, I was thinking," he continued. "The last few days have been kinda, well, queer, so how about we just sorta start again?"

"I don't understand?" said Carrie-Ann, her voice still a little shaky.

Ray grinned and took a step backwards. "Hi," he said. "I'm Ray, what's your name?"

Carrie-Ann looked bemused, but she played along. "I'm Carrie-Ann, nice to meet you," she said.

Ray grabbed her hand and shook it formally. "So, you seem like a great person. Would you, er, would you like to catch a movie with me sometime? Maybe grab something to eat after?"

"Like a date?" asked Carrie-Ann with a smile and Ray nodded. "How about tonight?" she suggested.

"Great!" Ray gave her a peck on the cheek. "I'll pick you up at, er…" he glanced at the digital clock on his microwave oven. "Now!"

Carrie-Ann laughed. "At least give me time to get changed," she requested. "I smell like Jif and furniture polish."

"I have furniture polish?" Ray said in surprise.

"Found it under the sink," confirmed Carrie-Ann. "God, you're a slob!" she added, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder.

Ray shrugged. He couldn't really argue with her on that point.

 _She doesn't seem to care though. Stella hated… no… I'm NOT gonna think about Stella tonight…_

Carrie-Ann ran into the bathroom and Ray wandered around his apartment while he waited for her, looking in cupboards and drawers to find where exactly she'd tidied away all his stuff.

"Wow," he said when she eventually emerged.

She hadn't brought many clothes with her, so she had just changed into a better pair of jeans and a t-shirt with pretty yellow flowers on the front and quickly applied some make up. She hadn't expected a 'wow' at all.

"You look…" he didn't have the words to finish his sentence, so instead he just took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Carrie-Ann murmured and he released her. "We haven't been on our first date yet," she whispered.

"Oh," replied Ray with a wink. "Well pitter patter, let's get at 'er!"

xXxXxXx

"Try to hold still…well it's not my fault you have a splinter."

Diefenbaker wasn't very happy. He'd managed to get a large splinter in his paw on the way back to the car and now Fraser was attempting to remove it. He whined and squirmed on the sofa as Fraser tried to get a good look at it.

"Dief, I'm sorry," said Fraser. "It needs to come out before it becomes infected."

Dief growled and snatched his paw away.

"If you don't let me do this it'll be a trip to the vet," Fraser warned him.

Reluctantly, Diefenbaker lifted his paw again and Fraser held it up to the light. Then he picked up the tweezers and gently attempted to remove the splinter, but Dief howled in pain and jumped down onto the floor, holding his paw in the air.

Fraser sighed. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said apologetically. "As soon as it's done I'll fetch you a doughnut."

Dief barked loudly and Fraser thought it best to allow the wolf to release some tension. He didn't cope very well with pain and apparently even the offer of an unhealthy treat wasn't enough this time.

"What on earth is going on in here?"

Fraser leapt to his feet at the sound of Inspector Thatcher's voice.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "Diefenbaker has a splinter in his paw and it's causing him some distress."

"Oh, I see," replied the Inspector, folding her arms across her chest.

"Perhaps, if you have a few minutes to spare, you could assist me?" asked Fraser before he could stop himself. He could see that she was dressed up to go out, but for one impulsive moment he hadn't wanted her to leave. "If you could just hold him still the procedure will only take a few seconds," he added.

Thatcher hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was to get Diefenbaker anywhere near her - she didn't need wolf fur all over her outfit while she met with the French Ambassador's assistant – but Dief's pitiful howling was becoming unbearable.

"Alright," she said, eventually. "Where do you want me?"

Fraser felt his cheeks flushing red as unthinkable thoughts flashed into his mind.

 _I want you…I want you…_

"Fraser! I am in a hurry," said Thatcher, impatiently.

"Of course," nodded Fraser, snapping out of his trance. He lifted Diefenbaker back up onto the couch and Thatcher sat next to the animal. "Just hold him as still as you can, please," said Fraser.

Thatcher nodded and followed Fraser's instructions. She felt Dief flinching as Fraser started to work and she instinctively put her hand on his head and stroked his fur soothingly.

Fraser noticed the gesture and couldn't help but smile to himself. "There, all done," he said and he pressed a piece of cotton gauze against Dief's paw to stem the trickle of fresh blood. "Thank you, sir."

Thatcher got to her feet and began brushing wolf hairs from herself as she turned to leave. Then she turned back to Fraser. "Constable," she began, addressing him formally as she had a habit of doing when she knew the conversation would be awkward. "I imagine you'd planned to pay the veterinarian costs for that little dog you helped the other day?" she queried.

"Yes, sir," agreed Fraser. "His owner has no source of income, although he has agreed to pay me back in instalments."

Thatcher rolled her eyes at his naivety.

 _Don't hold your breath…_

"I will pay the bills," she said, flatly.

"Sir?"

"It's the least I can do," she tried to explain.

Fraser wasn't entirely sure of her motives, but he was grateful. He would struggle to pay the bill himself, little Billy had needed costly critical care for the injuries caused by the arrow. "Thank you," he said.

Without saying anything else the Inspector left the Consulate for her meeting.

Fraser looked down at Dief. "How does it feel now?" he asked.

Dief yapped a response.

"Good. I'll just fetch you that doughnut I promised you," said Fraser and headed towards the door.

Dief yapped again.

"I don't know either," replied Fraser. "I imagine her compassion compelled her to offer."

Dief barked.

"No, she had nothing to feel guilty for," said Fraser, defensively. "Inspector Thatcher simply has…other priorities." He knew Dief was probably right about guilt playing a part, but he wasn't about to admit it. "Oh the telephone's ringing!" he exclaimed suddenly as the shrill noise brought a welcome end to the conversation.

Dief gingerly tried walking on his sore paw while Fraser went to answer the phone. If Dief was reading the Mountie's body language correctly – and he usually did - whoever was on the other end of the line apparently had some good news. Dief had the sinking feeling that his doughnut was going to get forgotten about.

xXxXxXx

"Oh my god, did you see that guy?" Carrie-Ann was giggling so much she almost tripped over as they walked back into Ray's apartment.

"I was that close to arresting him," replied Ray, closing the door behind him.

"You can't arrest a guy who's just had soup poured in his lap!" exclaimed Carrie-Ann.

Ray shrugged. "Guess not," he agreed. "But we sure as hell ain't going back to that restaurant again."

Carrie-Ann laughed and collapsed on the sofa. "I've had a great time, Ray," she said.

"So, shall we go on a second date?" asked Ray hopefully.

"Sure," grinned Carrie-Ann.

Ray crossed to his stereo and switched it on. He selected a cassette tape from the newly tidied pile on the shelf and put it into the machine. As the music started he walked over to the sofa and held out his hand. "Dance?" he asked, softly.

"I can't, I told you, I have no rhythm," replied Carrie-Ann. "I have no idea how."

"Just do what I do only, er, backwards," replied Ray, grabbing her hand and dragging her to her feet.

Ray really wanted to dance with her. He wanted to hold her close and let her feel what he felt when he danced. Dancing had always been Ray's means of escaping from the real world. When the pressure got too much he knew he could put on some music and forget about whatever else was happening, even if it was only for three and a half minutes. When he and Stella were going through their divorce they still danced. Stella would pretend she didn't want to, of course, but she very rarely put up much of a fight and Ray knew she still felt the same way about it as he did. If it hadn't been for dancing Ray did not know how he would have got through the last few years. Lately he mostly danced alone and it was enough, but he craved more. He craved the intimacy of dancing with the woman he loved.

Now here he was holding Carrie-Ann's hand and pulling her body towards his. He hoped she would understand as he wrapped his arm around her back and started swaying gently to the soft sounds coming from the stereo. He could feel the tension in her body and he moved closer so his cheek brushed against hers.

"Relax," he whispered. "Just feel it, it doesn't matter what you do with your feet. Just, er, just move with me."

"OK," Carrie-Ann replied nervously. She gripped his hand tightly and closed her eyes as she tried to find the rhythm.

"Good," said Ray as she seemed to ease into it. "That's great! See, I told ya it was easy."

 _Was it like this the first time with Stella..? Do I want this…or do I just want Stella…?_

Ray closed his eyes and they danced until Stella seemed like a distant memory. This was different, he concluded, but it was a good kind of different.

 _This is what I want…this is what I need…_

"We could…er, we could go to bed?" he suggested in a low voice as the tape eventually clicked off.

Carrie-Ann broke away from him and looked at the floor. "Not tonight," she whispered. Then she lifted her gaze to meet his. "Let's just have this moment, please?"

Ray nodded and smiled. "OK," he agreed. This was a big change from the woman who'd tried desperately to seduce him the other day, but he liked it. "It's only our first date anyway," he added with a wink.

Carrie-Ann laughed. "I don't…I mean…I don't wanna get a reputation."

Ray pulled her close again and kissed her hard. Carrie-Ann initially gasped at the intensity, but responded with equal passion.

"You're gonna stay tonight, though, right?" he asked when they finally came up for air.

Carrie-Ann nodded. "I don't think I can be alone, not yet," she said.

Ray nodded. "Kinda gettin' used to the couch," he grinned.

"You're a true gentleman," she replied with a smile. "Goodnight, Ray."

Ray found himself panting for breath as she walked off into his bedroom. He stood with his hands on his hips and let out a sigh. "Geez," he mumbled to no one except his turtle. "I don't know what the hell is going on, but I like it."

He pulled off his boots and picked up the blankets which Carrie-Ann had neatly folded earlier and unrolled them onto the sofa. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to sleep, but he knew he had to try.

xXxXxXx

"What are you going to tell him?"

Fraser turned his head towards the sound of his father's voice. "Hello, Dad," he said. He turned back towards the door of Ray's apartment. He'd been standing outside for a few minutes trying to make sense of something. He needed to tell Ray about it as soon as possible, but he wasn't sure how his friend was going to react. "I suppose I'll let him see this and draw his own conclusions," he said, holding up a VHS tape that he had only had in his possession for a short time.

"And what are your conclusions?" asked the ghost. "Do you think it has any relevance to the case?"

Fraser sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I do know that Ray is not going to like it."

His father nodded in agreement and disappeared as his son finally knocked on the door.

"Fraser!" Ray exclaimed when he saw who had disturbed his attempt at sleep. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Approximately twenty seven minutes past midnight" replied Fraser.

Ray sneered at him. "This had better be important," he hissed as he closed the door behind him.

"I'm terribly sorry, Ray," said Fraser. "I tried to telephone you, but there was no answer."

"Oh, yeah, I switched off my cell and unplugged the phone," explained Ray. "I was, er, having a good time. Didn't want any interruptions."

"I see," replied Fraser. He glanced at the blankets on the sofa. "Is Carrie-Ann still here?" he asked.

"Er, yeah," replied Ray as if Fraser had just asked the dumbest question ever. "Things are going good, buddy," he continued. "I think…oh I dunno, but I think this could work."

Fraser nodded silently.

Ray was immediately concerned. "What is it?" he asked. "You're doin' that thing…that silent thing."

Fraser frowned. "What thing?" he asked.

"Doesn't matter," replied Ray. Then he noticed Fraser was carrying a videotape in his hand. "What's on the tape?" he asked.

"Something I think you should see," replied Fraser. "May I?" he asked, nodding towards Ray's VCR player.

"Sure," shrugged Ray. He picked up the remote control and switched on the TV. "Is this to do with the case?" he asked.

"Um…" Fraser hesitated. The truth was he wasn't sure. He put the tape into the machine and joined Ray on the sofa.

Now Ray was starting to get really worried. He wanted to question his buddy more, but his attention was grabbed by the images on his TV screen. "Hey, that's my building…downstairs," he said.

"Yes," agreed Fraser. "Francesca was able to procure CCTV images from the camera located on the apartment building across the street," he explained.

Ray squinted to look at the date stamp in the bottom left hand corner of the image. "This isn't the day of the murder?" he said, puzzled.

"No," confirmed Fraser. "Unfortunately their equipment was malfunctioning on that day. However, these images are from the following evening."

"That's…is that Carrie-Ann?" asked Ray. He finally relented and pulled his glasses from his pocket.

"It is," said Fraser. He glanced at Ray. He wasn't sure how his friend was going to react to what he was about to see. Fraser didn't understand what it meant himself yet, but he knew Ray needed to see it.

"Oh, this was the evening that guy attacked her," said Ray. He hoped they had a clear image of the attacker, even if it wasn't the same guy who killed Thelma at least they could get him for what he did to Carrie-Ann.

Ray was about to ask Fraser another question when suddenly he saw the grainy image of Carrie-Ann hitting her own head against the wall. For a brief second Ray froze with shock.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed when he finally managed to speak. He grabbed the remote control and rewound the tape to watch it again, just in case he'd missed something, but it was quite clear. Carrie-Ann had walked out of Ray's building, gone around the corner where she couldn't be seen by passers-by and deliberately injured herself.

Ray quickly turned off the TV and looked at Fraser. "She said…she said she'd been attacked," he said, half under his breath. "She lied…and worse than that, she's crazy!"


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7.**

"Looks like you've uncovered something big, Besbriss."

Elaine had been surprised to get a call from Lieutenant Welsh so early in the morning and she had driven to the Twenty Seventh precinct with trepidation.

"Is that…a good thing, Sir?" she asked nervously as she stood in front of his desk.

"Yes," replied Welsh, earnestly. "Although the I.A. investigation is still in the early stages so I suggest you lay low for a while," he added.

Elaine took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Yes, sir," she said.

"I called Constable Fraser," Welsh continued. "He should be here any minute…oh, here he is now."

Right on cue Fraser knocked on the door of the office.

"Come in!" yelled Welsh.

"Good morning, sir," Fraser said, nodding to the Lieutenant. Then he turned to Elaine. "Elaine," he added with another nod.

"Hi Fraser," smiled Elaine. "I'm laying low," she added with a wink.

At Fraser's puzzled expression, Welsh quickly explained the situation. He had a contact in Internal Affairs who had already discovered that Elaine's Lieutenant was, indeed, involved in some highly suspicious activity along with several other senior members of the department. They were in the process of gathering evidence before any formal action could be taken.

"Maybe I should take up knitting?" suggested Elaine, only half joking.

"My grandmother enjoyed knitting," said Fraser. "She was, in fact, a profuse knitter. I distinctly remember one occasion she knitted me a rather lovely scarf to wear on a school expedition. The strangulation incident was purely a misunderstanding on behalf of my classmates."

There was a moment of silence as Elaine and Welsh considered how to respond.

To their great relief they were interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by Francesca striding into the office without waiting to be invited, as usual.

Welsh growled under his breath.

"Fraser, did you know that Thelma Hoffman was rolling in it?" she said, completely ignoring the Lieutenant.

"Rolling in what?" asked Fraser, with an apologetic glance at Welsh.

"Money!" exclaimed Francesca. She handed Fraser a freshly printed page. "It was all under her married name," she explained as he scanned down the figures on the paper. "Her husband died twenty years ago and left her over a hundred thousand dollars. He was some kind of investment gnu." She pronounced the last word with a hard 'g' sound.

"I think you mean guru," said Elaine, trying not to laugh.

"The G is silent in gnu," began Fraser.

"New what?" asked Francesca.

"Gnu," replied Fraser, mimicking her original pronunciation. "The wildebeest. One should pronounce it without the G, although it's a common mistake."

"I wasn't talking about wildebeest!" exclaimed Francesca.

"I know," said Fraser calmly.

Elaine observed the exchange with amusement and wondered how Fraser managed to stay so calm during one of these conversations with Francesca.

"This is all very interesting, but I have work to do," said Welsh, eventually. "If you have something on the Hoffman case, Miss Vecchio, please discuss it with Detective Vecchio when he arrives."

At the mention of Ray, Fraser's thoughts returned to the previous night. After Ray had seen the CCTV footage he had wanted to go and wake up Carrie-Ann immediately to confront her about it, but Fraser had persuaded him to wait until he had calmed down and had time to think about it. Eventually Ray had agreed to leave it until the morning and Fraser had left, somewhat reluctantly considering Ray's mood. He imagined that Ray had not slept well, if at all. Fraser himself had had a restless few hours after the discovery. He hoped Ray had been able to talk calmly to Carrie-Ann this morning and that there was a reasonable explanation for her actions.

"Most likely it was the grief playing with her mind," Fraser had suggested to Diefenbaker in the early hours of the morning. Dief had been unconvinced, but Fraser hoped for Ray's sake that the wolf's instincts were wrong.

"Besbriss," said Welsh, breaking into Fraser's thoughts. "Keep in touch," he said.

Elaine nodded and she left the office with Fraser following behind. "Thank you kindly, Francesca," he said as the Civilian Aid returned to her desk, still bemused by their previous exchange.

The door to the squad room opened and Fraser looked up to see Ray walk in. As soon as Ray spotted Fraser he turned around and walked out again.

Fraser turned to Elaine. "If you'll excuse me," he said and then he headed after Ray.

"Drop it, Fraser," said Ray without turning round. He'd recognised the sound of Fraser's boots on the polished floor and knew his buddy was following him.

"Right you are," replied Fraser. He followed Ray into the lunch room before adding. "What is it exactly you'd like me to drop?"

Ray stopped in his tracks and hung his head. "I didn't talk to her, OK?"

"Ah."

"I couldn't. I just…I have to think about it some more," continued Ray, staring at the floor. "I mean, I've been thinking all night, but I need to think some more."

"I thought I could smell wood burning." Francesca had followed them to the lunch room in search of coffee.

Ray spun round and glared at her. "Can it, Frannie," he hissed.

Francesca raised her eyebrows in a gesture of mock hurt. "Someone got out of bed on the wrong side this morning," she noted, dryly. Then she looked at Fraser and smiled. "If you need me for anything, you know where to find me," she said coyly, before pouring herself a coffee and walking off.

Ray looked back at Fraser. "Things were going so great, buddy," he said with a sigh. "I should've known something like this would show up and ram a wrench into the works so hard that all the gears and pistons explode like, er, like a bomb went off in my head."

Fraser was taken aback by Ray's expanded metaphor. "You know, there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation," he said, eventually.

"Like what?" shrugged Ray. "She did a crazy thing and lied to me about it. Why? For the sympathy vote? Her gran was just murdered. Did she think I wouldn't feel sorry for her enough already?" Ray became more animated as he continued. "Jeez, Fraser! This makes no sense. None of it makes sense. The whole idea that a girl would find me attractive makes no sense."

"Ray, you know that's not true," Fraser insisted.

Ray threw his arms in the air and sighed with frustration. "OK," he said. "OK, Fraser, pitter patter." He marched towards the door, almost walking straight into a young uniformed officer who had just walked in.

"Where are we going?" asked Fraser, hurrying after his friend.

"To talk to Carrie-Ann," Ray called over his shoulder. "I need you there, buddy, just so I don't do something really D-U-M dumb."

xXxXxXx

Ray pulled the GTO into his favourite parking spot outside his apartment building and stared out of the window.

"Are you…are you alright?" asked Fraser, gingerly. He half expected a snappy response, but he didn't get one.

"Haven't been alright for a long time, buddy," Ray replied in a soft voice, unable to make eye contact with the Mountie.

Fraser sighed to himself. He hated to see his friend like this. Ray could be a bundle of energy one minute and the next he'd come crashing down to the dark place where he seemed to spend so much of his time. Fraser glanced behind to the back seat of the car, hoping his father would be there with some words of wisdom, but there was no one but Diefenbaker.

"Would you prefer it if I spoke to Carrie-Ann?" asked Fraser.

Ray shook his head. "Nah," he replied. "Thanks, but I'll do it. I just need you there."

Fraser nodded understandingly and they got out of the car and walked up to Ray's apartment. Ray fumbled in his pocket for his keys. He still carried around a large set of keys, half of which he had no idea which lock they belonged to, but sorting out his keys was one of those jobs he knew he would never get round to. Not in this lifetime.

Carrie-Ann looked surprised to see them. She had settled in front of the TV with a mug of coffee. "Hey," she said with a smile. "I thought you had something urgent to do this morning?"

"Yeah," agreed Ray. He glanced at Fraser before speaking again. "I need to ask you something."

Carrie-Ann suddenly realised that this was serious. She put her coffee down and wrapped her arms protectively around herself.

Fraser studied her body language closely as Ray spoke.

"The night that guy grabbed you," Ray began, deciding it was best just to get straight to the point. "There was no guy was there."

Carrie-Ann drew a sharp breath. "I don't know what you mean?" she replied in a quiet voice.

"C'mon, quit lyin' to me!" Ray exclaimed.

"What are you talking about, Ray?" asked Carrie-Ann.

Ray didn't need Fraser's Mountie senses to see she was suddenly very nervous.

"This," he replied, abruptly, waving the video cassette in front of her. "It's CCTV footage."

"Of...of the guy who killed Gran?" Carrie-Ann visibly paled.

"Nope," replied Ray. "Wish it was. Sit down," he instructed and Carrie-Ann did as she was told.

Ray stayed on his feet. It had only been a few hours ago that they'd been sitting together on his couch laughing and kissing and for a brief moment Ray had allowed himself to sense happiness. Now everything felt different.

 _I'm such a stupid moron…_

He picked up the remote control and played the tape without saying another word. He didn't watch the recording this time, instead he concentrated on Carrie-Ann's face. A quick glance at Fraser told him his buddy was doing exactly the same.

Carrie-Ann appeared puzzled at first, but as soon as she recognised herself walking into shot she turned away. "I don't want to watch this," she whispered.

"Not exactly Movie of the Week is it," replied Ray, dryly. He wasn't sure what he expected her to do next. Maybe he thought she would fall to her knees and beg his forgiveness? Maybe he hoped she would just walk out of his life?

 _At least that would make this whole mess less complicated ..._

Ray stopped the playback and threw the remote control across the room. Carrie-Ann flinched as it hit the wall.

Fraser braced himself for more, but Ray displayed no further sign of emotion.

 _It's unlike Ray to be so calm..._

Carrie-Ann sat with her head bowed and her eyes tightly closed. "I'm sorry, Ray... " she began.

"That's something," mumbled Ray. "Oh yeah, and, er, that panic attack you had..." he added, letting the sentence hang and waiting for a reaction.

Carrie-Ann lifted her head and looked at him with tear-filled eyes.

Ray knew a look of guilt when he saw one.

 _Yeah, she knows we know..._

He glanced at Fraser who had remained typically stoic. If his buddy hadn't been there Ray knew he would have been yelling by now.

That was how it always was with Stella. Not that she had lied to him very often - and certainly not on this scale - but on those odd occasions when Stella had thought a white lie was the best course of action, Ray had completely lost it when he'd found out. And he always found out, of course. It was as if Stella seemed to forget she was married to a cop.

 _Or she just had me figured for the crappiest detective ever…_

"Ray... I don't know wha t to say," said Carrie-Ann eventually.

"Tell me I'm wrong," replied Ray in a voice tinged with desperation. "Tell me that tape was one of those optical intrusions."

"Illusions," said Fraser before he could stop himself. "Optical illusions."

"What he said," snapped Ray, pointing at his buddy.

Carrie-Ann shook her head sadly. "I was scared, Ray," she began. "I…I wanted to stay with you. I wanted…I wanted you, Ray."

"You could've just asked," replied Ray, trying not to raise his voice. "You didn't have to whack your head against a brick wall."

"I needed you to feel sorry for me," she said.

"Jeez, Carrie!" exclaimed Ray, throwing his hands in the air. "I already felt sorry for you! Your Gran was just killed!"

Carrie-Ann shrugged.

"And what about the panic attack thing?" continued Ray, finally starting to lose his temper. "You faked it, right? You did that whole, er, dramatic collapse thing for what? More sympathy?"

"I guess," replied Carrie-Ann as the tears she'd been holding onto starting rolling down her cheeks. "I wanted to stay with you."

Ray shook his head. "I don't like it when people lie to me," he added. "It really, really gets my goat. I'm a cop, it makes me start to think like, er, like you've got somethin' to hide."

Carrie-Ann glanced across at Fraser. "Haven't you ever lied about something when you were desperate?" she pleaded.

"No," responded Fraser.

"You're asking the wrong guy to back you up there," noted Ray.

"Well there was one occasion when I told a grizzly bear her cub was only a few hundred metres away whereas in reality it was well over half a kilometre," said Fraser. "But I was quite young at the time."

Ray stood open mouthed for a moment. "You definitely win the award for the weirdest childhood ever, Fraser," he said finally. "But that story, fascinating as it was, does not really help us here!" he added, his voice rising with a mixture of sarcasm and frustration.

"Ray, can we talk about this over dinner?" suggested Carrie-Ann hopefully.

Ray stared at her in disbelief. If this had been Stella there would have been yelling and probably throwing things, on both sides, but Carrie-Ann was so different to Stella. Perhaps that was why he was attracted to her? Ray knew he'd never be able to go through what he went through with Stella at the end of their marriage again.

 _Maybe I thought someone completely different would be safe? Stupid idea, Kowalski…_

"We had such a great night last night," continued Carrie-Ann. "And I thought..."

"Well you thought wrong," Ray interrupted her. "We can't just go back to how things were last night!" he added, incredulously.

"Why not?" asked Carrie-Ann, wiping tears from her face.

"Y'see, the thing is," Ray replied. "One lie I could maybe have talked about over dinner, but two...once you find out a person is one of those liars that can't help 'emselves it's kinda hard to, er... y'know, ever trust 'em again."

Carrie-Ann nodded and got to her feet. "I should go," she said and Ray nodded. "I'm sorry," she added and she headed towards the door.

Ray let out a long sigh and looked down at the floor. Sorry wasn't enough. He knew that. But there was a voice in the back of his mind telling him that maybe he might just be allowing the only opportunity he'd ever have for happiness to walk out of his life.

"Actually, Carrie-Ann," said Fraser, suddenly. "Before you leave, perhaps you could shed some light on a particular matter, please?"

Ray pulled a puzzled expression. He didn't know what Fraser was talking about.

"Um…sure," replied Carrie-Ann with a shrug.

Fraser realised that he should have spoken to Ray about this before bringing it up, but he knew the subject needed broaching sooner rather than later and he had been uncharacteristically spontaneous, fearing another opportunity may not present itself.

"It has come to light that your grandmother had a large sum of money in an old account," explained Fraser. "Were you aware of that at all?"

"No," replied Carrie-Ann, shaking her head. "Are you sure? I mean, Gran had no money. If she'd had money I could have got a home-help for her."

"With the amount in question you could have got her a new home," Fraser replied.

Ray was surprised and a little taken aback. "Er, Fraser, can we have a word?" he said, nodding towards the kitchen."

He half dragged Fraser away until Carrie-Ann was out of earshot. "What is this?" he asked, keeping his voice low. "Why didn't you tell me about the money? How much are we talking about anyway?"

"Over a hundred thousand dollars," replied Fraser, glancing across to make sure Carrie-Ann wasn't listening. "And I'm sorry I didn't mention it before, but you had other things on your mind."

Ray let out a slow breath. "If Thelma Hoffman had that much cash why did she live in this crabby apartment building?" he pondered out loud. Suddenly his mind was racing. He looked over at Carrie-Ann as a thought hit him. "She knew…" he said. He turned back to Fraser and his nostrils flared as he tried to control his emotions. "She knew about the money…and she just lied to me again."

Fraser thought carefully before answering. He had studied Carrie-Ann's reaction closely just now when he'd mentioned the money and the truth was he'd had his doubts about her integrity too, but he wasn't sure if he should just put it down to her emotional state following the previous confrontation.

"May I advise against jumping to conclusions at this juncture," he said eventually.

"C'mon, Fraser," replied Ray. "Wake up and smell the coffee."

"I can smell the coffee," replied Fraser. "Supermarket brand, if I'm not mistaken."

Ray dropped his head into his hands in despair. "I'm talking about Carrie-Ann!" he exclaimed. "We know she's capable of lying. To the police – that's me – and now she has a motive."

"A motive for the murder of her grandmother?" queried Fraser, surprised at Ray's sudden leap.

Ray nodded. "OK," he replied with a shrug. "OK, I'll just let her go…let this go…for now. I need to think, Fraser." Ray's mind was a roller coaster of emotions and now his cop instincts were flaring too. He strode back over to Carrie-Ann with determination. "Um, I think you were gonna leave," he said.

"OK," she half-whispered. "Oh, my things..." she said, glancing back towards the bedroom door.

"If you like I could deliver your belongings to your apartment later?" suggested Fraser.

Ray and Carrie-Ann glanced awkwardly at each other before nodding in agreement.

Ray couldn't watch as she walked out of the apartment. Once the door had closed behind her he picked up the TV remote control and switched off the morning talk show she had been watching. Then he threw the remote control across the room for the second time that day. It hit the door and clattered to the floor, this time losing the battery casing and both batteries in the process.

"Ray…" began Fraser with concern. "If you don't mind me saying, you're not thinking straight at this juncture."

"Drop it, Fraser," snapped Ray. He picked up the TV remote control and the loose batteries and put it all back together.

"I agree that it's possible she knew about the money," continued Fraser, ignoring Ray's request. "And her actions on the night she claimed to have been attacked are disturbing, but I don't believe she murdered her grandmother."

"Why not?" asked Ray. "'Coz right now I need answers."

"There are a number of reasons, not least the physical limitations I mentioned before," replied Fraser. "And besides, we have not yet acted on the information we obtained yesterday and interviewed Kris Nelson."

"Nelson is just an ex-con with an attitude," replied Ray.

"And attitude and a bow," noted Fraser.

Ray took a deep breath. "OK, let's go talk to Nelson," he said. He started walking towards the door, but then stopped and turned back to Fraser. "I don't know what to do, Fraser," he admitted. "I don't what to think. I want to be wrong, I want things to be like they were last night. I want…" his voice cracked and he trailed off.

 _I don't deserve anything I want…_

Fraser reached out and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Ray appreciated the gesture of support, but he couldn't speak.

"Ray, we have a homicide investigation to complete," Fraser said. "I suggest you should make that your main focus for now. The conclusion will likely influence your thoughts regarding…regarding the other matter anyway."

Ray nodded. "Better I found out what she's really like now before, er, before she took millions from my bank account and stole my Ferrari," he noted with more than a hint of irony.

"Indeed," agreed Fraser, tugging at his left ear.

"We should get back to the station, pick up the intel on our two ex-cons and then go shake 'em real hard, see what falls out," said Ray suddenly. " I can wallow in self-pity when this case is over."

"Right you are," replied Fraser and they headed out of the apartment.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8.**

Ray and Fraser had to pass Thelma Hoffman's apartment on their way out, which was still sealed off as a crime scene. They were met by the neighbour from across the hall who had comforted Carrie-Ann at the time of the discovery of her grandmother's body, who was coming the other way.

"Hello Constable, Detective," the middle-aged woman acknowledged them both. "Any closer to wrapping up this godawful business?" she asked, glancing over to apartment number 8.

"Progress is being made, Mrs Levy, but unfortunately we are not at liberty to divulge any details at this time," replied Fraser, diplomatically.

"Pity," sighed Mrs Levy. "Living here is starting to give me the creeps. How is the girl? I noticed she's been here a lot since it happened."

Ray shuffled his feet uncomfortably and looked away. He wasn't ready to talk about Carrie-Ann right now, especially not to a nosey neighbour.

"She is coping as well as can be expected," replied Fraser. "Now if you'll excuse us we have police business to attend to," he added, all too aware that Ray wanted to leave before he had any more awkward questions to answer. He and Ray started to walk away

"Must be a relief for her, in a strange way ," Mrs Levy continued, as if oblivious to their attempt to depart.

Fraser and Ray both stopped walking and spun around in unison. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand," Fraser said with a puzzled frown.

"Well, I'm not one to gossip," began Mrs Levy, "but I got the impression that poor old Thelma had gone a bit...well, you know..." She trailed off and tapped the side of her temple with her forefinger. "I don't think the old dear was ever the same after her daughter died. Well, it's not natural is it, to outlive your own child like that. And what with her health being what it was it's hardly surprising she was losing her mind. That young girl deserves a medal for what she had to put up with these last few months."

Fraser and Ray glanced at each other and then back to Mrs Levy.

"You saying Thelma Hoffman was crazy?" asked Ray.

"She sure sounded crazy sometimes," replied the neighbour. "All that screaming and banging. Throwing things, I guess. I just hope her granddaughter didn't get herself in the line of fire too many times. She's such a petite little girl, one more whack and I think she could have just broken into pieces."

"Are you suggesting Thelma was violent towards her granddaughter?" asked Fraser in disbelief.

Mrs Levy suddenly flushed red with embarrassment. "I've said too much," she said. "Maybe I was just hearing things." She tried to walk on towards her apartment.

"No, wait ," said Ray, stopping her in her tracks. "We're in the middle of a homicide investigation. There is never a point where you get to say 'I've said too much'." He glared at her, angrily. "Why the hell didn't you mention this when we took your statement?"

"Do you think it might be important?" asked Mrs Levy, somewhat sheepishly.

"I don't know yet!" exclaimed Ray. "But it's my job to find out stuff like that."

"Oh, I'm sorry," sa id Mrs Levy, genuinely apologetic. "Well I didn't hear any noise on the day of the murder so I didn't think it was relevant," she explained, "and it didn't seem right to start casting doubts on the character of a lady who had just been murdered."

Ray sighed, realising he may have overreacted. Mrs Levy seemed like a decent citizen, he quickly concluded that she hadn't been withholding information deliberately. "OK," he said in a much calmer voice.

"She really was a lovely old lady," continued Mrs Levy. "It was only these last few months. Maybe it was the painkillers she was on? My sister was on these tablets for her arthritis and she was like a bear with a sore head until her doctor changed them."

Fraser nodded understandingly. "Thank you kindly, Mrs Lev y," he said.

Ray wasn't sure what to make of the information. If anything it landed Carrie-Ann with another huge great motive for murder, but she had an alibi for the time of death and besides, Fraser was convinced she wasn't strong enough to use the murder weapon, so maybe it was just irrelevant gossip after all? Ray hoped so.

xXxXxXx

Ray and Fraser sat in the car in silence outside Ray's apartment building for over five minutes. Fraser glanced across at his friend with concern. He could see Ray was struggling with his thoughts and he wanted to say something encouraging and supportive, but he was having trouble reconciling Carrie-Ann's actions himself so he wasn't sure what to say.

Ray just couldn't shake Carrie-Ann from his mind at all, even though he knew he should be focussing on the investigation. He desperately wanted to find a reason to forgive her for what she'd done, but he just couldn't see any reason for her to lie to him the way she had. He was starting to think that their whole very brief relationship had been a lie. Her desperation to get him into bed when they'd only just met made a lot more sense to Ray if it had just been part of her strange plans to…well, he didn't know what her plans had been. None of it made sense and that was the problem.

"I know most regular people aren't freaky truth monkeys like you, Fraser, but there's lyin' and then there's lyin'…y'know?" Ray finally broke the silence. He gripped the steering wheel tightly as he spoke.

"I'm not sure that I do," replied Fraser, apologetically.

"See, it's like this," began Ray, starting the engine. He couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face at the familiar and comforting sound of the GTO roaring into life. "There's the kind of lying like 'Hey, Stell, you look great' when her ugly new dress sucks the colour from her eyes, but you know she spent a fortune on the goddam thing so you try to be nice...for all the good it does you..." He trailed off as yet another memory he'd rather forget came rushing back into his head like the blast from a sawn-off shotgun.

Fraser looked at him silently. It was always a worry when Ray began talking about Stella. Fraser knew there had been good times in Ray and Stella's marriage - Ray had told him about so many of them - but recently Ray had only been remembering the bad times and it was not doing his friend's emotional state any good. This latest mess with Carrie-Ann had been the worst thing that could have happened to Ray, Fraser realised and he was becoming more and more concerned.

"Or the kind of lyin' like 'OK, bozo, you'd better spill 'coz last I heard the Banner Brothers were ready to do a deal with the Feds and my money's on your name being at the top of their list'," continued Ray as he pulled out into the traffic. "When you know damn well there's more chance of, er, of the moon catching fire than there is of the Banners talking to the Feds."

"I do understand that there are times when a white lie is useful," agreed Fraser. "It simply goes against my nature to lie. It's not something I am capable of doing."

 _Except when it suits you..._ Ray noted silently.

"Yeah, well I guess Carrie- Ann is more than capable," he glanced at the Mountie and shrugged. The physical gesture was a deliberate attempt to dismiss the way he was feeling inside. Unfortunately it didn't seem to help.

"I am, however, quite capable of speaking to Mr Nelson alone, Ray," said Fraser. "So if you would prefer not to accompany me at this time..."

Ray flashed a grin. "Thanks, buddy," he said. "I, er, I appreciate it, but I'm OK."

 _No I'm not...and he knows it...but I can't lose it in front of him again..._

"Understood," nodded Fraser.

"I know you do, buddy," Ray half whispered and they spent the rest of the journey in silence.

xXxXxXx

Fraser and Ray collected all the information Francesca and Elaine had gathered on the two former prisoners who were on the rehabilitation programme with the Chicago Archery Club and headed to Kris Nelson's apartment first. Irene from the club had indicated that the behaviour of the other man, Darren Akintola, had been exemplary and he was the least likely suspect at the moment. Nelson, on the other hand, had been acting in a way that Irene and several of the other club members found threatening.

Nelson had served six years for his part in the killing of a medical student outside a nightclub in downtown Chicago. The court case had been long and drawn out with conflicting evidence from various unreliable witnesses almost resulting in the case being thrown out of court, but in the end he'd been sentenced to ten years. He was now out on parole with the proviso that he participated fully in the programme.

"This is a dumb idea," said Ray as they approached Nelson's apartment. "Giving ex-cons apartments and sports club memberships, I mean. I guess the decision makers were all on crack that day."

"The argument is that, if you give former prisoners a helping hand, they will reintegrate fully into society and become upstanding members of the community," Fraser replied.

"And you believe that?" sneered Ray.

"It's possible," replied Fraser. "Joe MacDowell was a constant reoffender when I was posted to a small detachment about a hundred kilometres outside Yellowknife. He spent more of his adult life behind bars than any other criminal I've ever encountered. However, one of the local Inuit families decided one day to take him into their home after his latest release. They taught him to cook, to fish, how to build a sweat lodge, all the essential skills…"

"I tell ya, Fraser, couldn't live without my sweat lodge," Ray interrupted him with a roll of his eyes.

Fraser ignored the sarcasm and continued the anecdote. "The point is, Ray, MacDowell never reoffended after that. He married the daughter of the family and the last I heard they had four healthy children and he was working as teacher. Sometimes people just need someone to give them a chance. Someone to believe in them."

Ray looked at him in disbelief. "You really believe that, don't ya, buddy," he said.

"Yes, Ray, I do," replied Fraser, earnestly.

Without another word, Ray knocked on the door of the apartment. Kris Nelson opened it – Ray and Fraser recognised him from his mugshot – and glared at them.

"Cops," he said with a sigh of resignation.

"Go to the top of the class," replied Ray, flashing his badge and pushing his way into the apartment.

Nelson shrugged and put up no resistance. "I'm getting sick of this, man!" he exclaimed. "Are you people ever gonna leave me alone?"

"Depends," replied Ray. "See my buddy here is Canadian and he thinks that people like you can change. He figures all you need is, er, a nice apartment like this and a bucket-load of opportunities that normal folks never get a chance to get and you'll turn into Mr Nice Guy."

Nelson looked Fraser up and down. "Canadian," he repeated and Fraser nodded. "Mountie?"

"That's correct," confirmed Fraser. "Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP."

"So, is he right?" asked Ray. "Or did you kill an old lady with an arrow?"

"What?" exclaimed Nelson, throwing his hands in the air in indignation. "An old lady? Jesus, man! I ain't killed no one. I never knew nothing about that kid and I don't know nothing about no old lady neither."

Ray winced at the multiple double negatives, waiting for Fraser to jump in and correct his grammar, but this time he didn't.

"The kid? Are you suggesting you were innocent of the crime for which you were imprisoned?" asked Fraser with a frown.

"Yeah, that's what I'm sayin'," agreed Nelson. "That's what I've been sayin' for years, but no one listens. No one cares because I'm just another black guy from the wrong side of town, but I ain't no murderer. The guy who shot Adrian Crouse wanted me to take the rap 'coz he had a record. He knew he'd go down this time so I was set up and there's not one goddam thing I can do about it."

"I read your file," continued Fraser. "Several witnesses put you at the scene of the crime."

"I'd never even met half those people," replied Nelson. "The guy who pulled the trigger was an old buddy of my cousin's until he started sleepin' with this girl from another gang. Then it all got messy. You know how it is, there was a war goin' on, man! I didn't want nothin' to do with it. Next thing I know I got cops breakin' my door down and draggin' me off to jail. Even my fancy lawyer didn't believe me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Fraser. "If you believe you are the victim of a miscarriage of justice you have an opportunity to clear your name. If you are telling the truth I can help you."

Ray flung his hands in the air in despair. Why did Fraser believe every sob story he heard? Half the prisoners in jail were pleading innocence, what made this man any different?

"Do you think I'm tellin' the truth?" asked Nelson, looking Fraser directly in the eye.

Fraser did not hesitate before answering. "Yes," he said, with a tiny nod of his head. "Yes, I do."

"Fraser!" exclaimed Ray. "We're here about a homicide, remember?" He turned to Nelson. "OK, pal," he said. "Where were you on the morning of the sixteenth?"

"Here," replied Nelson. "I don't do nothin' except mope around here and go to the dumb archery club. I mean, Jesus, man! Archery? What kinda dumbass thought archery was gonna turn my life around?"

"Same dumbass who's spending a lot of taxpayers' money on you," noted Ray, dryly. "So quit complaining."

"OK, OK, I get it," shrugged Nelson. "Here's the deal. I ain't your old lady killer, but I guess I've got no alibi so you're just gonna bust me for it anyway."

"You also have no motive that we're aware of at this juncture," Fraser pointed out. "Therefore we have no reason to arrest you, unless there's something you're not telling us. Do you know the names Thelma Hoffman and Carrie-Ann Webber?"

"Nope," shrugged Nelson. "Are they on the archery team? I don't pay too much attention. Just turn up to get my Brownie points, that's all."

"We heard you were planning on getting the guys who put your name in the frame for the Crouse murder," Ray said.

"OK, so I got a big mouth," shrugged Nelson. "But I ain't stupid. I ain't gonna risk goin' back to jail for nothin'."

"So you were just mouthing off?" asked Ray. "You're not planning to whack any of the guys who put you in jail?"

"No!" exclaimed Nelson. "I already told you, man! I'm not a killer. Never was. I just want a quiet life now, but I guess that ain't gonna happen any time soon. You guys are gonna bug me every time some guy gets whacked around here, right?"

"Only if the police have a legitimate reason to suspect you," replied Fraser.

Nelson laughed. "I don't know what it's like in Canada," he said, "but here in Chicago, once the cops get your number they ain't never gonna leave you alone."

"We're sorry to have troubled you," said Fraser, sincerely.

"We are?" exclaimed Ray in surprise.

"Yes, Ray," nodded Fraser. "This man had no involvement in the murder." Then he turned back to Nelson. "I would like to help you clear your name," he said. "You can reach me at the Canadian Consulate."

Nelson eyed Fraser suspiciously at first, but eventually gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement.

Ray shook his head and turned to go.

"You wanna be talkin' to my old pal Akintola," Nelson called after him. "He's lucky he didn't get the needle first time around, if what he says is true."

Ray spun round and glared at Nelson as he continued to speak.

"I get ten years for nothin', he gets ten for slittin' a girl's throat. How is that fair, man?"

"Another man was charged with that murder," Fraser noted. "Darren Akintola was charged as an accessory only."

Nelson shrugged dismissively. "Yeah, well I'm livin' proof that the justice system sucks," he said.

Ray glanced at Fraser. They weren't going to get any more out of Nelson, that's if there was anything else to be had. What if he was right? Irene's description of Akintola was that of a model citizen, but what if he was really a murderer who had slipped through the net? Ray knew that there were miscarriages of justice – the Beth Botrelle case had brought that particular fact home to him hard – so maybe Akintola was out walking the streets when he should be locked up?

"Thank you for your time, Mr Nelson," said Fraser, courteously and they left the apartment.

"You really think he's telling the truth?" asked Ray as they walked back to the car.

"Yes, Ray," nodded Fraser. "And to that end I don't believe he has any involvement in the murder of Mrs Hoffman. However, I do believe we should speak to Darren Akintola immediately."

"Guys talk a lot of crap in jail, Fraser, you know that," Ray pointed out. "My guess is Akintola was just trying to act the big guy, that's how they get respect. Keeps 'em outta trouble."

"Well that could be the case," admitted Fraser.

Darren Akintola's apartment was in a similar block to that of Kris Nelson's. They had both been provided with a place to live for six months and it was hoped that the support they were getting would help them make new lives for themselves. Ray looked around the building as they approached.

"This place is better than mine," he noted. "Maybe I should, er, get my ass off to jail for a few years if this is what you get handed to you on a plate when you get out."

"This is a trial programme," Fraser reminded him. "It doesn't appear that Mr Nelson is embracing its aims, however."

Ray shrugged. "Yeah, ungrateful little…" he trailed off before the curse word he'd been thinking of escaped his lips. For some reason, swearing in front of Fraser felt a little like swearing in front of his mum. Although, admittedly, Fraser had never stopped his allowance.

Akintola greeted them with a smile, a complete contrast to the reception they'd had from Nelson.

"Mint?" he said, offering a bowl of sweets to the two men as they entered his apartment. "I really missed these in jail. And now they do spearmint ones too."

"Er, no thanks," replied Ray with a look of disgust. "I hate mints."

Akintola waved the bowl under Fraser's nose, but he dismissed the offer with a wave of his hand. "Not while I'm on duty," he said, seriously.

Ray introduced himself and explained the reason for their visit.

"I'm sorry, but you're looking at the wrong guy," replied Akintola. "Got an alibi. I was at my sister's place. She had two babies while I was in jail and then our mother passed. I miss her, Detective. My brother won't even speak to me now, but I hope he'll come around soon. He has three great kids and I want to get to know them all. Kinda got a lot of family time to make up for," he added.

"Maybe you should've thought of that before you handed that weapon to the guy who killed Kelly Johnson," sneered Ray.

Akintola hung his head in a gesture of genuine remorse. "I gotta live with what I did," he said. "I needed the cash so I sold that bastard a couple blades. I didn't think about what he was going to do with 'em."

"Maybe you thought he had some veggies in desperate need of chopping?" suggested Ray facetiously.

Akintola lifted his head. "I'm not proud of it," he said. "I was a fool, a damned fool, but God knows I'm trying to make up for it now. The archery team has been so good for me."

"OK, well I'll have a quick chat with God after I've spoken to your sister," replied Ray sarcastically.

"I didn't kill anyone," insisted the man. "Why would I do that?"

Ray shrugged. It was true that they'd found no motive, but he didn't want to give too much away at this stage. "You tell me," he replied. "What's your connection with Thelma Hoffman? Do you know Carrie-Ann Webber?"

Akintola shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't recognise either of those names. I really hope you get your man, Constable," he added, nodding respectfully to Fraser.

"Thank you kindly for your time," said Fraser and they left the apartment.

"You do get, Fraser, that if either of them is our killer they're not gonna admit to knowing the victim, or Carrie-Ann, right?" said Ray as they drove away.

"Of course," agreed Fraser, placing his hat carefully on the dashboard of the GTO. "At least, not intentionally."

"What do you mean?" asked Ray, puzzled. "Did you see something? Smell something? What?"

"I'm not sure at this juncture," replied Fraser.

"No, no, no, buddy," said Ray, shaking his head. "You do not get to leave it there. Tell me, even if it's a hunch. You think one of them was lying, right?"

"Well, possibly," admitted Fraser. "Mr Akintola looked up and to the left when you mentioned Carrie-Ann."

"And…" prompted Ray.

"And…my father always insisted this particular body language was one of the seven signs that a person was lying," Fraser continued.

"Seven?" queried Ray. "What are the others?"

"A twitching right thumb, licking of the lips…actually it's not important, what is important is that while I'm certainly an advocate of the art of reading of body language in many circumstances, I'm not sure this one always rings true."

"Coulda had something in his eye," Ray suggested.

"Exactly," agreed Fraser. "Although there was something else. Mr Akintola went to great lengths to talk about his family and his aspirations to rebuild his relationships, however the apartment contained no family photographs."

"So you think Akintola is our guy?" asked Ray, hopefully.

"There's no evidence to suggest that at all," Fraser noted.

Ray let out a sigh of frustration. "The only evidence we have is the arrow," he said. "Maybe we should just put out an APB on Cupid?" he added sarcastically.

They were no closer to finding the killer of Carrie-Ann's grandmother and Ray was more desperate than ever to close this case. All the while they were still investigating the murder he would have to speak to Carrie-Ann and he really wanted to forget about her.

 _Stupid to think you could be happy with anyone again, Kowalski…_

"Are you alright, Ray?"

Fraser's words cut into his thoughts.

"It's just that you missed the turning," added Fraser.

"Oh, yeah," Ray immediately spun the car around and headed back to the junction. Just then the radio crackled into life. Fraser picked up the handset and introduced himself. It was Francesca.

"Hi Frase," her voice carried across the airwaves. "Do you prefer the red serge, or your brown uniform?"

Fraser wasn't sure he'd heard correctly he glanced at Ray for confirmation.

"Frannie, this is not a sex line!" Ray yelled loud enough to be heard. Fraser's face went as red as a beetroot.

"Hey, I resent the implication, Ray," replied Francesca. "It's only that Elaine and I were just talking and…and, well I guess it doesn't matter. We'll just have to use our imaginations."

Fraser cleared his throat with embarrassment. "Actually, my brown uniform is more comfortable," he said.

"Geez, Fraser, don't tell her!" exclaimed Ray, momentarily taking both hands off the wheel so he could wave them in Fraser's direction.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Francesca," said Fraser, drawing his thumb across his eyebrow. "Did you have another reason for contacting us? One pertaining, perhaps, to police business?"

"Oh, right, yes," replied Francesca. "Part of the programme those two ex-cons are on gives them gym membership," she explained. "Sunrise Gym, over on Madison East."

"Gym membership! Does this city have money to burn right now?" asked Ray.

"The programme is privately funded, Ray," said Francesca. "I found a whole load of info, I've got it here. Anyway, do you guys want to take a guess who else is registered at Sunrise?"

"Charlie Williams?" suggested Ray. "The archery captain?"

"Nope," replied Francesca.

"Carrie-Ann Webber," stated Fraser.

"What?" Ray's head snapped round.

"Ten out of ten, Fraser," said Francesca. "And your prize is dinner at my place."

"I'd love to, thank you kindly, Francesca," smiled Fraser. "Your mother's cooking is wonderful."

"Ma's out of town," Francesca's voice was suddenly low and sultry.

"Ah, oh, er, well…" Fraser panicked.

"When you two have finished organising your love life can we just focus here," yelled Ray over the noise of the traffic. "Over and out, Frannie." He snatched the radio handset from Fraser.

"We should speak to Carrie-Ann," Fraser pointed out.

"Can't," replied Ray. "Sorry, buddy, you'll have to do this one on your own."

"Understood," replied Fraser. "I promised to return her belongings, anyway."

Ray nodded and now his mind was racing again. Carrie-Ann knew one of their suspects. What did it mean? What else had she lied about? Ray wasn't sure he wanted to find out.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9.**

"Oh, Fraser. Hi."

Carrie-Ann seemed surprised to see Fraser and Diefenbaker when she opened the door of her apartment. Fraser could tell she was unsettled, although that was hardly surprising given recent events.

"Your belongings, as promised," said Fraser with a lop-sided smile. He was carrying the holdall into which she'd hurriedly thrown a few clothes when she first realised she might be staying at Ray's for a few days, or longer. Now the clothes had been just as unceremoniously put back into the bag by Ray.

"Oh, of course," smiled Carrie-Ann. "Come in." She bent over and patted Dief on the head as he followed Fraser inside. "Thanks for doing this," she said. "I guess Ray hates me now."

Fraser hesitated before replying. "Ray is…a little confused," he said eventually. He put the holdall down on the floor and watched Carrie-Ann as she attempted to tidy up her apartment.

There were newspapers scattered all over her sofa and used plates and cutlery on the floor and Carrie-Ann seemed embarrassed that Fraser had seen them. "Sorry, I'm not really thinking straight," she said by way of explanation. "I'll just clear some of this away."

"You don't have to do that," replied Fraser. "Please take a seat, I'd like to talk."

"About what?" asked Carrie-Ann, her eyes suddenly wide with anxiety.

"It's alright," Fraser tried to reassure her. "It's just that some information has come to light regarding the search for your grandmother's murderer."

"Oh," she replied quietly and pushed enough papers aside so she had room to sit down. Fraser took a seat in the chair opposite.

"It transpires that two men we believe may be suspects belong to the same gym as you," began Fraser. "Kris Nelson and Darren Akintola." He pulled out the photographs he had of the men and showed them to Carrie-Ann. "Do you recognise either of these two men?"

"I don't go to the gym very often," said Carrie-Ann, shaking her head. "I…I don't think I've seen them before, but I don't know for certain."

Fraser nodded and put the photographs back into his pocket.

"I didn't mean to hurt Ray," said Carrie-Ann. "I don't know why I did those things. I don't even remember doing them, not really."

Fraser slowly moistened his lower lip with his tongue. He wasn't here to talk about the situation with Ray and he didn't know how to respond. He decided to stick to the subject of Carrie-Ann's grandmother. "We also spoke to one of your grandmother's neighbours," he said. "She seems to think that your grandmother was having, um…difficulties in recent months. She heard noises coming from the apartment. Arguing. Do you know anything about this?"

"She was fine, everything was fine," insisted Carrie-Ann. She suddenly got to her feet. "I'd like to be alone now," she said, wrapping her arms protectively around herself.

Fraser stood up too, but made no move to leave. "Carrie-Ann," he said, gently. "Was your grandmother at all violent towards you?" he asked.

Carrie-Ann looked up at him with sad eyes. "She was an old lady and now she's dead. I loved her and I miss her and…and…" she broke down and sobbed as tears streamed down her face.

Fraser took a step towards her and gently, but firmly placed his hand on her forearm. "Please sit down," he urged and Carrie-Ann did as she was asked. This time Fraser sat next to her. "If you are found to be withholding information…"

"I didn't kill her!" exclaimed Carrie-Ann suddenly. "Is that what you think? Is that what Ray thinks?" She fought hard to regain her composure, anger emerging through the sadness.

"No," replied Fraser. "But we need to know what happened. I know this is difficult for you and I'm sorry. If you'd prefer to talk to someone else I can arrange for a support officer to visit, perhaps a female."

"No, it's OK," replied Carrie-Ann. "I'll tell you…or, I could show you…" She trailed off and untucked the plain yellow t-shirt she was wearing from the waistband of her jeans. Then she pulled it up at the back to reveal an ugly scar running at an oblique angle to her spine. There were other marks too, bruises and pot marks. All, as far as Fraser could make out, quite recent.

"She started throwing things at me," she tried to explain. "Books, knives. I don't know what happened to her, I don't know where she found the strength. She never used to do this. I was…I was only trying to help her, but…" she trailed off as she couldn't put her feelings into words.

Fraser looked at her with sympathy as she covered up the scars. "Do you have a list of the medication your grandmother was taking?" he asked.

Carrie-Ann nodded and went to find one of Thelma's old prescription forms. "Here," she said.

Fraser took the list and scanned down the names of the various medications. "Hmmm," he said. "May I keep this?" he asked and Carrie-Ann shrugged and nodded. "I'd like to speak to a friend of mine, he's a doctor. Your grandmother's violent mood swings may have been caused by a conflict of medication."

"Don't tell Ray," she said. "About all this, I mean."

"Ray cares about you," replied Fraser. "He will understand, but it's your decision. Perhaps you could tell him yourself one day?"

Carrie-Ann nodded. "One day, maybe," she said. "Thank you for returning my things."

"You know where you can contact me if you need anything," said Fraser.

xXxXxXx

"Are you OK, Ray?" Ray looked up as Elaine walked into the squad room at the Twenty Seventh. She was carrying two cups of coffee. "I got you this," she added. "You look like you need caffeine and that's not something I say about you very often."

Ray's mouth twisted into a grin. "You know me, usually bouncing off the walls," he said. "Thanks," he added, taking the coffee from her. He opened his desk drawer in search of chocolates to add to it and was relieved to find a half empty box.

"You still do that?" asked Elaine. "Why aren't you fifty pounds heavier?"

Ray shrugged. "Fraser says it's my meta-carbolic, er, something or other," he said.

Elaine laughed. She was really enjoying spending time with Ray…and Fraser, of course…but mostly she'd realised how much she loved working at the Twenty Seventh precinct. There were a lot of good people at the Twenty Fifth too, apart from the crooked ones, but the atmosphere was just not the same. She was considering asking Welsh if he could organise a transfer, but she wasn't sure if it would be good for her career.

 _But my happiness is more important than my career…I'll talk to Welsh, he'll know what's best…._

"Ray, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," shrugged Ray. "Unless it's can I set you up with Fraser, 'coz I'm am not getting involved in that particular love triangle. Frannie is dangerous."

Elaine laughed again. "I have to say, Francesca has surprised me," she said. "I had real concerns when I left, but she's kind of good at my old job."

Ray shrugged. "Yeah," he admitted. "But don't tell her I said that," he added with a wink. "If she could just get her head out of the clouds she'd be even better. She's never gonna get anywhere with Fraser."

Elaine allowed herself a glimmer of hope that maybe she would be the one to get somewhere with the Mountie instead.

"So how come you're still hanging around here?" asked Ray. "I figure there's more to it than just an excuse to stare at Fraser."

Elaine nodded. "I can't tell you, I'm sorry," she said. "But I think everything's going to be OK soon."

"Greatness."

"Sorry, Ray, when it's all over I promise I'll tell you," added Elaine, apologetically.

Ray shrugged. He was just glad that Elaine had Fraser to support her through whatever it was. He looked up as he was suddenly aware of footsteps. Footsteps he'd recognise anywhere. A smile crossed his lips, but it was tinged with sadness.

"Hey, Stell."

"Ray." Stella's reply was typically cold. She walked over to his desk and handed him a rather dog-eared file. "I hate it when the Mountie's right," she said.

Ray looked puzzled as he took the file from her.

"The old Nelson file from eight years ago," explained Stella. "I don't know how it ever got to court. Circumstantial evidence, unreliable witnesses and half the paperwork is missing. DA got involved and pushed it through. I've seen it happen before. Some pencil pusher just wanted it off his desk and filed. Guilty or not."

"That's terrible," noted Elaine. "Is the case going to be reopened ?"

"After all this time ?" replied Stella incredulously. "I don't have time to deal with the recent cases on my desk, let alone something as cold as this."

Stella was a little taken aback by the shocked look on Elaine's face. Even Ray looked a little surprised. Suddenly she felt a pang of guilt.

"OK, OK," she relented. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, Stell," smiled Ray and Stella gave a nod of acknowledgement. "So, er, you doing anything this evening?" asked Ray with a wink. If he was being honest with himself he didn't want company this evening, not even Stella's company, but he'd asked out of habit. Habit and a few remaining strands of hope he couldn't bring himself to let go of. He knew she'd say no anyway.

"If you mean am I doing anything with you this evening then no," replied Stella, glaring at him.

"Tomorrow?" suggested Ray with raised eyebrows.

"Ray, drop it!" snapped Stella. "Tell Fraser I need to talk to him about Nelson," she added and with that she turned on her heels and walked out.

Ray watched her go and with her went another tiny piece of his heart. He glanced at Elaine who was wearing a deep frown.

"I wish she wouldn't speak to you like that," said Elaine with a look of pity.

Ray shrugged. "I deserve it," he replied. "I'm still kinda stalking her like some weirdo."

Elaine reached out and gave his arm a friendly squeeze. Ray could be a jerk at times, but she could see that underneath all of that bravado was a sensitive guy. A lonely, sensitive guy. For a fleeting moment Elaine wondered what it might be like to be with Ray. Fraser was an impossible dream, she knew that even though she would never stop dreaming, but Ray...

"So, you doing anything tonight?"

Elaine was stunned. Apparently Ray was having the same thoughts. She couldn't answer, she just stared open-mouthed.

Ray sniggered. "I'm kidding!" he said. "Jeez, you don't have to look like I just suggested that you, er, go drown a few kittens, or something."

"Sorry, Ray," said Elaine. She hadn't meant to appear so shocked, but he had caught her by surprise. "I just..."

"I know, you got someone else on your mind," noted Ray with a wink. "Yeah, well, I know how that feels."

Ray had two people on his mind now. Stella, of course, but now thoughts of Carrie-Ann were swimming around in there too and he didn't have a clue how to process them.

xXxXxXx

"I see…yes…thank you, Mort." Fraser put the phone down and pursed his lips, deep in thought. He glanced down at Diefenbaker who was snoozing on the rug. The sun was almost up and Fraser took a moment to enjoy the start of the new day. He hadn't slept very well and his restlessness had disturbed Dief. He was pleased the wolf had been able to doze off again, lack of sleep made for one very grumpy wolf.

Fraser had called Mort early in the morning. The medical examiner was an early riser just like Fraser so he had been able to ask about the various medications Thelma Hoffman had been taking. Mort told him that the combination may have been the cause of her dramatic mood swings, but he would have to do some more research to be sure.

Fraser's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in," he said and Constable Turnbull stepped inside. "Good morning, Turnbull," said Fraser, hoping that the younger Mountie did not have a silly question to ask this time.

"Good morning, Constable Fraser," replied Turnbull, standing to attention. "You have a visitor. Shall I show him in?"

"Yes, of course."

Fraser was surprised that anyone would be visiting the Consulate so early in the morning and he was even more surprised when Ray appeared at Turnbull's side. Ray's hair was unusually flat and Fraser immediately noticed he was still wearing the same t-shirt he'd had on the day before. It appeared as though Ray had had less sleep than he had.

"Detective Vecchio," Turnbull announced with a wave of his hand.

"Thank you kindly, Turnbull," nodded Fraser and Turnbull left the office, closing the door behind him.

"Why does he have to do that?" asked Ray, rubbing one eye with his fist.

"Do what, exactly?" asked Fraser.

"Be so freaky," Ray clarified. "I mean, you know my name already. We're partners. We're buddies. We're a duet. He didn't have to tell you my name. Unless he, er, he thought you'd forgotten it overnight, or something weird like that."

"Turnbull was formally announcing your presence," Fraser explained. "It's common courtesy, that's all."

"Y'see, there's that word again," frowned Ray. "Courtesy. Canadian for freaky."

Fraser decided to ignore the jibe. He could tell Ray was not in the best of moods anyway. Then he noticed Ray had a small pink bag tucked under his arm. He glanced at it and then back to Ray with raised eyebrows.

Ray had almost forgotten he was carrying it. "Oh, yeah, this," he said, holding the bag out in front of him. "It's Carrie-Ann's. Full of make-up. I forgot to put it with her other stuff."

"And you'd like me to deliver it to her for you," said Fraser.

"Yeah," nodded Ray. "I thought about doing it myself – thought about it all night – but I just wound up putting a hundred miles on the GTO driving everywhere that wasn't her place instead."

"I'll return it to her this morning when I take Diefenbaker for a walk," replied Fraser.

"Thanks, buddy," nodded Ray. "Er, so, er, how was she yesterday?" he asked, gingerly. Part of him didn't want to know the answer. If Fraser told him she was happy as Larry to be rid of him he wouldn't be surprised, but it would hurt like a punch to the gut. If, on the other hand, Fraser told him she was devastated at what she'd done and had begged him to ask for another chance he would feel guilty and confused about whether he'd done the right thing and that would just lead to more nights driving round the city thinking and that really wasn't good for his head.

"She was, naturally, upset," replied Fraser, choosing his words carefully. "She wanted me to tell you that she is terribly sorry for the things she did."

Ray shrugged. "I get that, Fraser, but it's kinda impossible to trust someone after they've, er, y'know…"

"Proven themselves untrustworthy?" suggested Fraser, finishing his sentence for him.

Ray nodded. "Did she recognise Nelson, or Akintola?" he asked.

Fraser shook his head. "No," he replied.

Ray paused for a moment. "Do you believe her?" he asked.

"Well, as we've just established, it's not easy to believe the word of someone who has already…"

"Proved themselves untrustworthy," finished Ray with half a grin.

"Proven," noted Fraser, but before Ray had a chance to complain he added. "But that's not important at this juncture. What is important is that I return the last of Carrie-Ann's belongings to her on your behalf. Do you intend to go to work today?"

Ray looked down at himself and sighed.

 _I look like crap and I stink…_

His head was pounding and he was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. "Maybe I'll, er, go home and grab a shower and a coffee first," he said.

Fraser nodded. "Right you are." He walked with Ray along the hall and out into the street and waved as he got into the car and drove away. He turned to Dief who had woken from his slumber and followed them. "What do you think?" he asked his wolf.

Dief yapped.

"Not about that, about Miss Webber," replied Fraser, rolling his eyes. "You can keep your opinions about the hockey season to yourself."

Dief barked.

"Well, that was my thought too," agreed Fraser. "Her behaviour is inconsistent. She has admitted to lying to Ray about certain things, but I don't believe she was lying about the cause of her injuries. The neighbour's story also appears to corroborate her explanation."

Dief yapped again and yawned.

"I gave her my word I wouldn't divulge the information to Ray," Fraser replied. "But I will try to persuade her to change her mind. Come on, let's go for a long walk. I think you need it."

Dief growled and barked.

"Don't take that tone with me," retorted Fraser. "There has been far too much lazing around lately than is healthy for an Arctic wolf."

Despite Diefenbaker's grumbling, he and Fraser left the Consulate carrying Carrie-Ann's pink make-up bag. As they strode through the streets, the Mountie's apparent choice of accessory drew some odd looks from passers-by as the city began to come to life. Fraser relented to Dief's constant whining and bought him a doughnut for breakfast which he demolished in one mouthful.

After a good walk they arrived at Carrie-Ann's apartment. Fraser raised a hand to knock at the door, but then he noticed that it was slightly ajar. He looked down at Dief with a puzzled frown.

"Carrie-Ann," he called out. "It's Fraser. Is everything alright?"

He waited for a reply, but there was silence. Fraser felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Something's wrong," he said quietly to Dief and the wolf agreed with a low growl.

Fraser rarely wished he was carrying a gun – he had realised during his time in Chicago that he didn't need one and, in fact, not having a weapon had worked to his advantage on so many occasions – but this time he couldn't help but feel he would be better off with his trusty Smith and Weston revolver in his hand as he slowly pushed open the door of the apartment. There was no sign of a break-in or a struggle, which brought some sense of relief, but Fraser remained on full alert. He pointed to the bathroom and indicated to Dief to go and look in there while he searched the bedroom. Silently, the Mountie and his wolf covered the whole of the apartment, but Carrie-Ann was nowhere to be found.

Fraser stood in the kitchen area and looked around again. "Her purse is still here," he said, urgently, seeing it for the first time down by the side of the sofa. "Which means she most likely left in a hurry."

Dief barked his agreement.

"There must be something we're missing," said Fraser, half under his breath. He closed his eyes suddenly and inhaled deeply. "What is that smell?" he asked with a frown. Then his eyes snapped open. "Mints!" he exclaimed. "Oh dear…" The realisation hit Fraser like a neon light in his mind. "Darren Akintola!"

Dief barked loudly and ran towards the door.

"Wait," said Fraser as he started to piece things together. "I agree, but we might need back-up. If Akintola wanted Carrie-Ann dead he would have killed her here, just like he did her grandmother. So where has he taken her?"

Dief yapped and turned in a circle, desperate to start the hunt.

"Of course!" agreed Fraser. "Good boy. The clubhouse is as good a place to start as any."

He ran to the side where Carrie-Ann's telephone hung on the wall. He picked up the handset and quickly punched in Ray's number. It rang for a few seconds and then went to his voicemail. With a small sigh of frustration Fraser left a quick message for Ray to meet them at the archery club, then he dialled again.

"Hello, Francesca," he said when the Civilian Aid answered the phone. "It's Fraser. I need to get hold of Ray urgently." He listened as Francesca told him that Ray hadn't arrived yet. "I've left a message on his cellular telephone, but if you could please keep trying and ask him to meet me at Washington Park. Thank you kindly."

Diefenbaker was halfway out of the apartment as Fraser put the phone down. He was about to follow when he had one more idea. Even as he picked up the phone and dialled the number he wasn't sure if it was actually a good idea or not.

"Ah, Constable Turnbull, it's Fraser," he said, interrupting the junior Mountie before he had finished his long, formal greeting from the Consulate. "Please listen carefully. I am having difficulty contacting Detective Vecchio. If he should return to the Consulate, please ask him to meet me at the archery clubhouse in Washington Park. It's very urgent…yes, yes…Washington Park."

Fraser waited for a moment while Turnbull scribbled down the message.

"That's right," he confirmed as Turnbull read it back to him. "Unless I contact you again in the meantime," he added, but he immediately regretted saying it as it seemed to confuse Turnbull.

"No, the message still stands, Turnbull, Washington Park," he said, trying not to let the frustration sound in his voice. "No, I will call you if the location changes…" he trailed off and listened to Turnbull's reply. "Well, if I can't get to a pay phone the original instruction remains. Washington Park…" he explained.

However, Turnbull did not seem satisfied with the reply.

"I doubt there's any chance of the weather changing that dramatically, Turnbull," answered Fraser rubbing furiously at his eyebrow, "but if it does I'll take shelter somewhere with a telephone.."

But Turnbull was in full flow.

"Constable, I appreciate the amount of thought you are putting into this," said Fraser, desperate to get away. "But really, I am not likely to fall asleep on a train, nor am I planning to eat any poisoned fruit and become delirious," he said. "Now, please, if you see Detective Vecchio, just ask him to meet me at Washington Park. Thank you kindly."

Fraser put the phone down again and let out a long sigh. He hoped Ray would get his message. It seemed very likely now that Darren Akintola was the perpetrator they were looking for and it seemed that he had kidnapped Carrie-Ann. As he ran out of the apartment and out on to the street Fraser did not know what danger he would be running into and he very much hoped he wouldn't be running into it alone. As much as Diefenbaker was often invaluable in these situations, Fraser needed his partner by his side.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10.**

Fraser had not considered how far it was to Washington Park from Carrie-Ann's apartment. He and Diefenbaker were used to covering vast distances on foot so it never occurred to him to look for transport. He ran as fast as he could, visualising a map of Chicago in his mind and following the most direct route. He jumped over a low wall and crossed a playing field where a group of teenagers were throwing a baseball to each other. The field was bordered on one side by a row of trees and Fraser and Dief ran through them and out into the park on the other side. Suddenly he was distracted by the noise of a shout. He stopped and turned to see two horses being ridden through the park, except one of the horses had reared and almost thrown his rider. The young man was clinging to the reins for dear life as the animal bolted around in circles. The other rider, a young boy on a smaller horse, was screaming in fear.

Fraser ran over to them and, without hesitating, he grabbed the reins of the runaway animal. "Woah, woah," he said, pulling hard on the reins and reaching out to touch the horse on her shoulder. It took all his strength to bring the animal under control. "It's alright," he said softly, patting the side of her neck. "It's alright." Then he glanced at the rider who had finally managed to untangle himself. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"I…I don't think so," replied the man, dismounting as fast as he could. "I don't know what spooked her," he said. "She's never done this to me before."

Fraser relaxed his grip on the reins a little and gently stroked the horse's forehead. Then he ran his hands over her muscular frame. "I think…" he began, lifting up her front leg to examine her hoof. "Yes, look, she has picked up a rather nasty stone."

The rider peered over Fraser's shoulder as he braced himself against the side of the horse and brought out his penknife. "Steady," he said soothingly as the horse tried to move. Then with a quick action, Fraser removed the stone and it flew out onto the ground. Fraser put his penknife back in his pocket and ran him thumb over the sore area which was now oozing with blood.

"What we need is…" he said, but then he noticed Dief at his feet with something in his mouth. "Good boy," he said and took the offering. "Sphagnum cymbifolium," he explained. Adding, "Moss," at the puzzled looks he got from the two horse-riders. "It makes an excellent surgical dressing, not to mention the natural antiseptic properties."

Fraser packed a small amount of the moss into the horse's shoe and then released her leg. The horse seemed much calmer now and began munching on some wet grass.

"Thanks," said the rider.

"You're welcome," replied Fraser. Then an idea came to him. "I wonder," he began. "Would you be kind enough to do me a favour in return?"

"Sure," shrugged the young man. "I think you probably just saved my life so I guess I owe you."

"May I please borrow your horse?" asked Fraser. "A life may very well be in danger."

"Um, OK," agreed the man.

"Would your dog like to ride my horse?" asked the young boy.

Fraser smiled gratefully at him. "That's a very kind offer, son," he said, "but, although Diefenbaker is an accomplished rider, he hasn't been back in the saddle since a rather nasty incident with a squirrel."

Dief barked and yapped.

"It was not a bear, it was a squirrel," replied Fraser. "You always try to embellish this story."

Dief yapped and ran off.

Fraser turned back to the older rider. "Thank you kindly," smiled the Mountie and he swung himself into the saddle. "I will return her as soon as I can." And with that he galloped off across the park with Dief wishing he hadn't had that doughnut after all as he struggled to keep up.

xXxXxXx

They soon arrived at the archery club. Fraser was surprised and a little worried to find no-one out on the ranges practising for the upcoming competition. The clubhouse too was in darkness. Under normal circumstances he would have at least expected to see Irene out in the field with her bow and Charlie Williams working in his office…but these were not ordinary circumstances, that much was becoming clear.

Fraser quickly dismounted and tied the horse to a fence. He patted her nose affectionately and then set off towards the clubhouse with Dief at his heels. They approached the door with caution. It was closed, but not locked. Fraser doubted that Williams would have left the place unlocked without good reason.

"Stay alert," Fraser mouthed to Dief and the wolf yapped a quiet affirmation.

Fraser opened the door slowly, staying as close to the wall as he could. There was no-one in the hallway, or at the reception desk. Fraser glanced over his shoulder hoping that Ray would have got one of the messages he'd left and be pulling up in his car, but his hopes were dashed.

 _Just you and me then, Dief…let's hope we're not too late…_

Fraser and Diefenbaker entered the clubhouse. The walls were covered in an assortment of club notices and photos of smiling archers. There was a small trophy cabinet in the corner next to a vending machine and it displayed the club's haul of prizes over the years. Each of the cups and medals were polished to a high standard and it was obvious to Fraser just how proud Williams and the club members were of their achievements.

Fraser knew Williams' office was to the left – he'd seen him go in there the day they'd met Irene – so he quickly rounded the corner, but then he stopped in his tracks.

"Oh no…"

Charlie Williams lay on the floor with only his legs visible to Fraser. He was lying face down across the threshold of his office, not moving. Fraser ran across to him, stepping over the motionless man into the office where his head was slumped awkwardly against a filing cabinet by the door. Fraser crouched next to him and felt for a pulse in his neck, then lowered his ear to check his breathing.

"He's still alive," Fraser announced with relief to Diefenbaker. He made a cursory check for any obvious injuries, but apart from the large bruise on his head the man appeared largely uninjured.

"He's out cold," said Fraser, glancing out of the doorway to make sure no-one was there. Then he carefully moved Williams away from the filing cabinet just enough so he could put him into the recovery position.

"Go and see if we're alone," Fraser ordered. "But be careful," he added as the wolf ran out of the office.

Fraser crossed to the desk and picked up the phone to call 911, but the phone line was dead. He clicked the received a couple of times to be sure before noticing the damage to the cable which had been forcibly removed from the wall.

 _So this was definitely not an accident…_

Dief came running back into the room, growling under his breath.

"Are you sure?" asked Fraser. "Who else?"

Diefenbaker had picked up the scent of several people in the changing rooms including, he believed, Carrie-Ann Webber. He couldn't be certain, though and neither could he be sure of who else was in there, as the smell of stale sweat was overpowering his senses.

"Alright, we'll just have to find out the hard way," conceded Fraser, patting Dief between the ears fondly.

Dief started licking Charlie Williams' unconscious face profusely and it was enough to produce a reaction. Williams groaned and moved his arm.

"Mr Williams," said Fraser, crouching beside him and placing his hand on his shoulder. "It's Constable Fraser, you're going to be alright, don't try to move. Did you see who did this to you?"

Williams moaned again before managing to say a single word. "Darren…"

"Darren Akintola?" Fraser asked, although he didn't need an answer. The only reply he got was a mumble anyway.

He turned to Dief with a serious look on his face. "This man needs medical attention," he said. Then he got to his feet and found a pen and paper. He quickly wrote a note, replaced the pen in the pen pot and folded the piece of paper in half before tucking it into Diefenbaker's collar. "Go!" he instructed.

Dief didn't budge.

"I said, go!" repeated Fraser. "He has a very serious concussion. He may have a haematoma. If he does not receive urgent medical treatment he could die."

Dief barked, but still did not move.

"I will be fine," Fraser tried to reassure him. "Ray will be here shortly. Now, please, take this note and fetch help for this man."

Dief hesitated for a moment, before reluctantly turning tail and running out of the building.

Fraser let out a slow breath. Now he really was alone and Darren Akintola may well be holed up in the changing rooms holding Carrie-Ann against her will. He glanced down at the figure of Charlie Williams, who had slipped back into unconsciousness, as a reminder of just what Akintola was capable of.

Then suddenly Fraser heard a door open and footsteps coming along the hall. He quickly ducked out of sight under the desk, hoping that if it was Darren Akintola he wouldn't notice that Williams had moved.

Fortunately the footsteps went straight past and out of the clubhouse. Even though Fraser couldn't see his face, he could tell by the resonance of his footsteps on the wooden floor that it was a man of similar build to Akintola. Then the smell of mints wafted into the office and Fraser knew for certain.

 _He left alone, though…so Carrie-Ann is still here…_

Fraser held his breath for another few seconds until he was sure Akintola had left before getting to his feet and running out of the office. He got to the changing room and stopped. Akintola may have an accomplice – possibly Kris Nelson – so Fraser had to be sure of exactly what he was about to get involved in. He listened at the door. There were quiet voices – two, if he wasn't mistaken, which he rarely was. One was definitely Carrie-Ann and Fraser allowed himself a small sigh of relief that she was still alive. The other voice was also female…older…it was Irene.

Fraser was sorry that Irene had become caught up in all of this and he desperately hoped she was alright. He tried the door handle, but it was locked.

Fraser was about to attempt to break down the door, but he hesitated. A lot of things didn't add up and he was not used to having so many nagging doubts about a situation he was about to walk into.

"Odd isn't it, son."

"Dad!" exclaimed Fraser through clenched teeth. "Will you please stop doing that, you frightened the life out of me!" He added, swallowing hard.

"Sorry," replied the ghost of Bob Fraser with a shrug. "But it looked like you needed some back-up."

"Back-up would be nice," admitted Fraser. "Although I was hoping more for back-up from someone with a pulse."

"Do you know how much that hurts my feelings?" asked Bob, looking sadly at the floor.

"You don't have feelings, you're dead," Fraser pointed out, dryly.

"You really don't have time for pettiness at the moment, son," replied Bob. "You have a tricky situation."

Fraser ignored the 'pettiness' comment, but he did agree with the second part of his father's statement. "Something feels wrong," he said.

"Well you will eat food that nutcase Turnbull cooks," replied Bob. "Lord knows what he does to it."

"I'm not talking about my digestive system," replied Fraser, incredulously.

"Oh, I see," nodded Bob. "Well, my advice would be to go in and play it by ear."

"Play it by ear?" repeated Fraser in disbelief. "Is that all you can offer?"

"Improvise, son," replied Bob. "I've seen you do it before. In fact, you're quite good at it, but don't let that go to your head."

"I won't," agreed Fraser.

"That girl has something to hide, I know that much," continued Bob. "Never trust a person who treats the truth with such wanton irreverence."

"Agreed," nodded Fraser. He turned back to the door briefly. "Do you know if Ray is on his way?" he asked, but when he turned back his father had disappeared.

"Play it by ear…" he muttered to himself, shaking his head, but before he could do anything else he felt a sharp blow to the side of his head. It came out of nowhere and took him completely by surprise. Before he could react everything went dark.

xXxXxXx

Ray let out another sigh and stared at the door of the police station. He knew he should go in and at least pretend to be doing some work today, but he wasn't in the mood. He wasn't in the mood for sitting in his car either, but at least here he felt safe from all the frustrations of life. The thought of facing Frannie's persistent chatter, or one of Dewey's snarky comments, just cemented the idea in his brain that he should go home and crawl back into bed. Or perhaps under the bed…yes, that might be better.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the steering wheel, inhaling deeply as the familiar smell of leather filled his nose and trying desperately to summon some enthusiasm for police work. There was still a murderer on the loose and he owed it to Thelma Hoffman to do his best to bring them to justice, no matter how much hurt her granddaughter had caused him. He felt bad about leaving Fraser working alone, but he knew it was best this way. The mood he was in, Ray could imagine himself swinging a punch at one of their suspects, landing himself with a charge for police brutality and blowing a hole in the case for the prosecution in the process. He'd never understood why lowlifes got away with murder just because of what Stella would call 'a technicality'. What was so wrong with kicking a murderer in the head?

Ray opened his eyes and was about to get out of the car when he saw Huey and Dewey walking out of the station towards their car. He quickly slipped down into his seat to avoid being seen and held his breath, as if somehow just breathing might catch their attention. He waited for a minute until he heard the car drive off then, just to be certain, he waited another minute before slowing lifting his head and peering out of the window. He almost jumped out of his skin when he came face to face with Diefenbaker. The wolf had his front paws on the driver's door and his breath was leaving a large steamed up area on his car window, not to mention a fair amount of wolf slobber.

"Jeez!" exclaimed Ray, opening the car door. "What the hell are you tryin' to do?"

Dief stepped back to let Ray out of the car and began to bark loudly.

"Where's Fraser?" asked Ray, looking around for a flash of red, but he saw nothing. "What's happened?" said Ray, addressing the wolf directly. A sense of dread had begun to wash over him. "If you've dragged me out of the car just to get you a doughnut then you can think again," began Ray. Then he noticed the note. He bent down and pulled the piece of paper from Dief's collar.

Dief sat patiently for just long enough for Ray to read the note.

"Oh hell," mumbled Ray and sprinted towards the station. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he ran and then remembered he'd deliberately switched it off this morning. For a moment he felt like kicking himself in the head. He'd left his partner out there in the field alone and without any means of being contacted. Fraser's note mentioned something about the phone lines being down at the clubhouse, though, so it was too late now anyway.

Ray ran up the stairs two at a time and into the squad room. "Frannie!" he yelled before the door had even closed behind him. "Get an ambulance over to the archery club in Washington Park, quickly."

"What's happened?" asked Francesca, picking up the phone on her desk and dialling the direct extension. "Fraser's trying to get hold of you, he wanted you to meet him there…oh, god, Fraser's not hurt, is he?"

"Don't think so," replied Ray.

Just then the door of Welsh's office opened and the Lieutenant stepped out with Elaine. "What's all this shouting for?"

"Fraser's in trouble," explained Ray, handing the note to Elaine. "I need backup…" he trailed off as he looked around the near empty squad room. "It's like a ghost town in here…where the hell is everybody?"

"Hostage situation over on Fullerton," Welsh explained. "And the sewage protestors are out again down at Douglas Park."

"Don't these people have anything better to do than protest about, er, sewage?" asked Ray, throwing his hands in the air in despair. "Never mind," he added. "I'm outta here. I'll call in."

"Wait, I'm not letting you walk into trouble alone," said Welsh sternly. "Take Besbriss with you."

Ray shrugged in agreement. Part of him would rather go alone, at least that way he wasn't going to risk getting anyone else killed, but on the other hand Elaine was a good officer who had proven her worth in the field. Ray turned to leave, expecting Elaine to run after him, but instead she spoke to Welsh in a low voice.

"Um, sir, may I remind you that, um, I'm on suspension…" she said, looking awkwardly at Ray.

This was the first time Ray had heard anything about Elaine being suspended. It all started to make sense now, though. Elaine had got herself into some kind of trouble down at the Twenty Fifth and she'd come to Fraser for help.

 _Figures. Where else would she go?_

Without saying a word, Welsh ducked back into his office, reappearing just seconds later holding a gun and a badge. "Raise your right hand," he ordered.

Elaine hesitated, glancing at Ray with a confused look on her face, before obeying.

"There, you're hereby deputised," said Welsh with a nod of approval and he thrust the badge and gun into a startled Elaine's hand. "Now, go and keep Vecchio and the Mountie out of any more trouble."

"Yes, sir," replied Elaine and she saluted the Lieutenant before running after Ray. She was sure she was supposed to swear an oath to become an official deputy, but Welsh seemed happy with the curtailed ceremony and, given the urgency of the situation, she was not going to argue with him. They got as far as the top of the stairs, but they were stopped in their tracks by a very out of breath Constable Turnbull.

"Oh, thank heavens," panted Turnbull as he reached the top step.

"Outta the way, Turnbull," warned Ray, trying to dodge around the young Mountie, but Turnbull was not letting him pass.

"I've been trying to reach you on your cellular telephone," said Turnbull. "I have an urgent message from Constable Fraser."

"If it's the same as the urgent message he left with Frannie, then we're on it," replied Ray. "Now quit blocking my way, Fraser's in trouble."

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Turnbull. "In that case I will accompany you."

"NO!" replied Elaine and Ray in unison.

Turnbull was so shocked at the outburst that he stopped dead in his tracks, finally allowing Ray and Elaine to slip past him and onto the staircase.

"I mean, thank you, Turnbull," said Elaine, turning back as she ran down the stairs. "But we have this covered."

"I have a duty to protect Constable Fraser," Turnbull called after them.

"Then you'd better stay right here," replied Ray without looking back.

Turnbull stood in silence and watched them go. He contemplated going after them anyway, but thought better of it. He'd witnessed Ray in this kind of mood before and there was simply no reasoning with him. While he may not agree with the way the brash American detective dealt with difficult situations, he had to admit it was effective. And besides, Constable Fraser's work methods seemed to compliment Detective Vecchio's and achieve results so perhaps he should stay here after all.

 _I imagine Miss Vecchio will be pleased to have my assistance at this difficult time anyway…_

xXxXxXx

"Wake up…wake up…"

Fraser could hear the voice through the darkness. "Vic…Victoria?" he croaked.

"Good lord, son, no!" exclaimed the voice. "Fine time to be thinking about that old witch."

"Dad?" Fraser sat upright and rubbed his eyes. Had he really just called out her name? Why? Why would he think of her at a time like this? Why couldn't he just forget about her after what she'd done to him? Fraser decided he would have to try to figure out that particular conundrum another time. Right now he was…cold.

 _Cold…?_

"Stand up son, walk it off," instructed Bob Fraser.

Fraser was finally able to focus on his surroundings…his very white surroundings. "Oh dear," he mumbled as he got to his feet and brushed the snow from his tunic. The sun was rippling through the sparse pine trees and dancing on the ice at his feet. He'd been here with his father before, at least he thought he had. "I guess this means I'm hovering between life and death again?" he asked.

"Oh don't be so dramatic," retorted his father. "You're just a bit unconscious, that's all."

"A bit?" repeated Fraser, incredulously. "Would that be a little bit or a big bit?" he asked, sarcastically.

"You can define it however you like, son," replied Bob. "All I know is you're in a pickle again."

"I wouldn't be in a pickle if it wasn't for you," replied Fraser.

"Nonsense," shrugged Bob. "You let your concentration lapse. You should have your wits about you at all times. I taught you that."

"It's very difficult to have my wits about me when I'm talking to a ghost," replied Fraser. "Now people are in trouble and I'm of no use at all."

He turned and started walking away from his father.

"Where are you going?" Bob called after him.

"Away from you so I can think," replied Fraser.

"Well that's nice, son," replied his father. "I'm trying to help you here."

Fraser sighed and spun round. "I know," he said in a softer voice. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little…frustrated, that's all. I need to get back."

Bob nodded. "Yes you do," he agreed. "But beware of the wolf," he added mysteriously.

"Diefenbaker?" queried Fraser.

"No," replied Bob. "The wolf in sheep's clothing."

Fraser was about to ask for an explanation when he heard another voice.

"Constable Fraser! Are you OK?"

Fraser closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. When he opened them again he was no longer cold.

"Oh thank goodness." It was Irene and she slowly helped him to a sitting position. "I thought he was going to kill you," she added.

"Darren Akintola?" asked Fraser as he tried to get his bearings. He was in the changing room at the clubhouse. A few mismatched items of clothing lay abandoned around the benches and three single trainers were gathering dust in the corner.

"Yes, I think he's the man you're looking for after all," replied Irene. "I don't understand, he seemed so nice. It was the other one I was worried about. Nelson. I would have sworn on him being the murderer."

"Hmmm…a wolf in sheep's clothing…" mumbled Fraser. Perhaps his father had been trying to warn him about Akintola, but that did not really make sense. They already knew he was no sheep.

"Did you find Charlie?" asked Irene. "Is he dead? He fell so hard."

"He's alive," Fraser replied. "I've sent for help. Try not to worry."

He tried to get to his feet, but the room suddenly started spinning and he stumbled backwards.

"Steady there," said Irene, grabbing him by the elbows. "I fell off a high beam once, must've been back in nineteen thirty nine…or thirty eight…anyway, I hit my head pretty hard. Knocked me out cold, they thought I was dead. It took me days before I could walk in a straight line after that."

"I may have a concussion," Fraser reluctantly concluded. "But that's not important. What is important is that we get out of here before Akintola returns."

Fraser stood up again, this time more slowly and was relieved to find he was able to maintain his balance. Then he suddenly noticed Carrie-Ann was sitting on the bench behind him with her back to them.

"Carrie-Ann?" he said. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she replied, in not much more than a whisper. "You?"

"I believe so," Fraser answered.

Carrie-Ann turned to face him and flashed a small smile.

"You know each other?" asked Irene in surprise.

"Yes," replied Fraser with a nod. "This is the victim's granddaughter."

"Oh, I'm so sorry my dear," said Irene, but Carrie-Ann turned her back on them again.

"What happened?" Fraser asked, sitting beside her. "You have met Darren Akintola before, haven't you…at the gym. Why did you lie to me?"

Carrie-Ann just shrugged silently.

"Do you know why he came for you today?" continued Fraser. "I went to your apartment. Did he hurt you?"

"No…not really," she replied quietly.

"I need to know what happened," Fraser pushed. "And I need to know the connection between you and Akintola."

Silence. Carrie-Ann refused to make eye contact and she wrung her hands together in her lap.

Fraser's head was still foggy. He couldn't make sense of what was happening right now, but he realised they needed to make their escape quickly. He got up and walked to the door, but this time it was locked. He turned towards the windows, hoping that they would be easy to force open, but he was a little surprised to find they were equipped with very strong locks.

"We've had a few problems with break-ins," Irene explained.

Then, to Fraser's great relief, a face appeared at the window.

"Ray!" he exclaimed. "We're locked in here," he shouted. "You should be able to kick the door in from your side," he added, pointing over his shoulder.

Ray gave a thumbs up sign and disappeared from view. A minute later his voice came from the other side of the door. "Stand back, Fraser!"

Fraser moved Irene to a safe distance and they waited for Ray, but nothing happened.

"Ray?" Fraser called out. "Are you still there?"

"Er, yeah," came the reply.

"We're at a safe distance," said Fraser. "Now might be a good time."

"I, er, I don't need to kick the door in now, buddy," replied Ray. "I got someone here with a key."

"Mr Williams?" asked Fraser, hopefully, but by now he'd realised that the situation was not quite as positive as Ray's words suggested.

The door opened and Ray entered, closely followed by Darren Akintola who had Ray's gun in his hand.

"Nope," said Ray. "This guy."


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11.**

"Good to see you Ray," said Fraser.

"I got your messages…eventually," replied Ray. "Sorry it took me so long."

Fraser waved his hand dismissively. "Don't mention it," he said. "You're here now."

"Saw that, er, that horse outside," said Ray, pointing towards the window with his thumb. "Figured it was yours."

"I borrowed her," Fraser explained. "She has a wonderfully calm manner, extremely focussed."

"Greatness," replied Ray.

"And she was very responsive to my physical commands," Fraser continued. "It was a very efficient ride."

"Don't horses freak out if some strange guy they've never met before jumps on their back?" asked Ray.

"Not necessarily, Ray," replied Fraser.

"Even a strange Canadian guy?" added Ray.

Fraser frowned, but ignored Ray's jibe. "Actually, it is the responsibility of the rider to adapt to the needs of the animal. I have become quite accustomed to this method over the years."

"Will you guys shut the hell up?" Darren Akintola had been observing the exchange in utter disbelief. "I have a gun pointed at your head, or had you forgotten?"

Of course Ray and Fraser had not been exchanging pleasantries for no reason. They were deliberately stalling, allowing Ray time to make an assessment of the situation he'd just walked into. They'd also hoped that their conversation would unnerve Akintola and it seemed to have worked.

"Yeah, that's my gun," Ray pointed out. "And I want it back."

Before Akintola knew what was happening, Ray spun round and knocked the gun from his hand. It clattered to the floor and spun across the room. Instantly, Fraser grabbed one of his arms and Ray grabbed the other and they pushed him against the wall.

"You're under arrest," said Ray with a satisfied grin.

"No!"

Fraser and Ray both turned at the scream which had come from Carrie-Ann.

"It's alright," Fraser said reassuringly. "It's over. It's all over now, you're safe."

Carrie-Ann shook her head. "No…no…no…" she repeated over and over and the head shaking became more vigorous.

Akintola started to struggle and Fraser had to fight to keep him contained while Ray brought out his handcuffs.

"No!" screamed Carrie-Ann again.

Ray snapped the handcuffs around one of his prisoner's wrists. "It's OK, we got him," he said without turning round.

"Er, Ray," began Fraser.

"What?" Ray's head turned again. Then, "Oh…"

Carrie-Ann had Ray's gun in her hand and was aiming it straight at them. "Let him go," she half whispered.

"What?" said Ray in astonishment. "This guy killed your grandmother."

"She knows, Ray," said Fraser calmly and he released his grip on Akintola.

"Please, Ray," begged Carrie-Ann. Her outstretched hand started to shake and she lifted her other hand to help steady the gun.

Ray realised he had no choice but to let go of Akintola.

"Thanks, babe," grinned the man and he pushed past Ray to get to Carrie-Ann.

"I'm not your babe," she hissed at him.

"Just being friendly," he replied. He unwrapped a packet of mints and put one in his mouth before offering one to Carrie-Ann.

"Yeah, well, we're not friends either," she replied, refusing a mint. She was still pointing the gun at Ray and it was taking all her strength to keep the gun raised.

"Nope, just business associates," shrugged Akintola. "Employer and employee."

Ray glanced at Fraser. He was starting to piece things together in his head, but he didn't want to believe what he was thinking.

"Give me the gun," Ray said, more abruptly than he'd intended. "Don't, er, don't make things worse for yourself."

Carrie-Ann shook her head and refused to move.

Akintola threw his head back with laughter. "This girl paid me to kill her old granny," he said. "Don't think things could get much worse for her, do you?"

Ray clenched his fists tightly as the reality of what Akintola had just said began to sink in.

"No!" screamed Carrie-Ann. "That's not how it was…you're twisting things." Now she was visibly fighting with her emotions and the gun started shaking in her hand.

Fraser stepped forward, his arm outstretched. "Please put the gun down," he said. "I promise I will help you however I can, but we need to talk about this. Please."

Tears started rolling down Carrie-Ann's cheeks, but she still refused to surrender the weapon.

"You don't have to give it to me," continued Fraser. "Just place it on the bench. I know you don't want to hurt anybody."

"Oh for god's sake do what he says," exclaimed Akintola. "I hate those things anyway."

Carrie-Ann hesitated for a moment before finally lowering the weapon. She sat down on the bench and set it down beside her.

"Thank you," said Fraser with a smile. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Darren Akintola walk over to the lockers. He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked one of the doors. He produced a long, leather bag from the locker and placed it on the floor.

"Guns are nasty, brutal weapons," he said as he unzipped the bag. "Now this…" he pulled out a shiny bow. "…this is a real weapon."

Ray had been silent since Akintola's bombshell. He knew he should hear Carrie-Ann's side of the story before he made any judgements, but whatever excuses she had would not be enough for him. She had been involved in the killing of her own grandmother and she'd used him…somehow…and damn near broken his heart in the process.

 _This has got to be up there with the dumbest of your dumb moments, Kowalski…_

Ray was too lost in his own thoughts to listen to Akintola who had walked over to Fraser.

"Now you look like a man who appreciates fine craftsmanship," he said. "Look at this." He held out the bow to Fraser. "I know the parts are machine made these days, but still…look at the lines, look at the curves. This is a work of art, not like a stupid gun. Guns are for morons. I'm a bowman now." Suddenly he pulled out an arrow and loaded his bow. Then he pointed it directly at Fraser.

Fraser, didn't flinch, much to Akintola's obvious disappointment. "Is this the weapon you used to murder Thelma Hoffman?" asked the Mountie, calmly.

Carrie-Ann let out a sob at Fraser's words. Part of Ray wanted to run to her and comfort her, but he had so many unanswered questions. He knew she had been involved in a terrible crime. He did not yet know how deeply, but it didn't matter and right now his anger was overwhelming.

"Yeah," Akintola said in answer to Fraser's question. "And the best part of it is, this beautiful weapon was handed to me by this city! What kind of idiot do-gooders thought they should give weapons to people like me?" He started laughing again and lowered the bow. "This is my rehabilitation, so they said, but I don't need their help. I've rehabilitated myself already!"

Irene, who had up until now, remained silent, suddenly got to her feet. "I never would have thought it was you," she said. "I thought you were a good man, Darren. A decent man."

Akintola turned to Irene. Fraser realised that he looked genuinely remorseful and he glanced at Ray to see if he'd noticed it too, but Ray's mind was clearly elsewhere.

"I…I am a decent man," Akintola insisted. "I only did this to help Carrie-Ann and my family."

"I don't understand," said Fraser.

Akintola sighed and looked at Carrie-Ann, who was staring at the floor. "Well, it doesn't look like we're gonna get much sense outta her. OK, let me tell you a story. Y'see, a few years ago I killed a girl. More than one, if we're gonna get picky about numbers, but they could only tie me in to this one stupid killing. I thought I was gonna get the needle for sure, but they pinned it on some other guy and all I had to admit to was selling him the blade." He stopped and shook his head. "Lawyers, huh? Dumbest bunch of assholes I ever encountered."

"Are you saying there was a miscarriage of justice?" asked Fraser.

"That's a fancy expression, Constable, but yeah," agreed Akintola. "Thing is, I'm a changed man now. Jail is…well, it does things to your head. So I figured when I got out I'd live my life differently. I have to start taking care of my family now. So if I see a girl crying one night down at the gym I'm gonna see if I can help her. Right, babe?"

They all looked at Carrie-Ann. Slowly she lifted her head and stared at him. "You didn't help me…you made it all worse and stop calling me babe!"

"You told me you wanted her dead," continued Akintola. "You gave me a key to her place."

"No…I didn't," insisted Carrie-Ann. "At least…I don't remember…I didn't want…I don't remember…"

"Jesus, you're crazy!" exclaimed Akintola. "You begged me to help you. If this is what the old lady did to your head I've done you a bigger favour than I realised."

"Is that true?" asked Ray, suddenly finding his voice.

"She was old and sick," protested Carrie-Ann.

"What?" exclaimed Ray. "So that makes it OK to have her killed?"

"No!" Carrie-Ann jumped to her feet. "That's not what I meant. You don't understand, Ray. I didn't…I mean, I don't know what I said that day. I don't know what I was thinking."

"I think I do," replied Ray.

Carrie-Ann turned to Akintola. "Why the dog?" she asked. "That little dog in the park. What the hell did you do that for?"

"I was trying to throw the cops off your tail," he answered. "Y'know something, this helping people game ain't so much fun if the people you try to help are so goddam ungrateful!" he exclaimed.

"You really think you're some kinda hero, don't you," said Ray in disbelief.

"I prefer vigilante," replied Akintola. Then his expression turned to a frown as something dawned on him and he turned to Carrie-Ann. "Wait a second…this is that cop, the one you told me about, isn't it?"

Carrie-Ann nodded sadly. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Ray," she said, pleadingly. "I didn't know that you would be so…so kind to me…so nice…"

"That's me, Mr Nice Guy," retorted Ray, sarcastically.

"The nice guys never get the girls," noted Akintola, dryly.

"You don't know what she was like, Ray," sobbed Carrie-Ann. "She changed when she got really sick. I loved her so much, but these past few months…" she trailed off and exchanged a glance with Fraser.

Ray immediately realised Fraser knew more than he did. "What?" he asked, glaring at his buddy.

Fraser looked to Carrie-Ann for permission. With sadness in her eyes she nodded and sat down again and Fraser explained to Ray about Thelma Hoffman's violent mood swings.

"I do believe the cause was the combination of her medications," he added.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ray asked her.

"I couldn't," she replied. "I couldn't risk you finding out about…" she trailed off.

"About you being an accessory to murder?" Ray finished her sentence for her, trying desperately not to allow his anger to boil over. Only the pangs of sympathy he still had for her stopped him from losing his temper. "About you taking out a contract on your own grandmother?"

"It wasn't like that," Carrie-Ann protested.

"Um, excuse me for butting in here," said Akintola, "but that's exactly what it was. You said there was money, lots of money, but where is it? I need that money for my family. I need it so I can disappear. I promised my sister I'd get money for the kids. I'm getting tired of waiting."

"I told you it will take me a while to get it," replied Carrie-Ann.

Ray's shoulders slumped. That was it. That was the final nail in her coffin. She had just admitted to offering Darren Akintola money to murder her own grandmother. The mitigating circumstances were no longer of interest to Ray. Let the lawyers deal with her tales of abuse, let Stella listen to her sob story, Ray didn't care about any of that.

"I don't have any more time," snapped Akintola. He picked up another arrow and spun it round in his hand before loading it into the bow. This time he aimed it at Irene. "I don't want to have to do this, but I will," he said. "I'm doing this for my family, for the kids. Now make a call and get me the money."

"I can't," sobbed Carrie-Ann.

"No excuses!" yelled Akintola. Then with a sigh of frustration, he threw the bow onto the floor. "I'm not a cold blooded killer," he insisted. "I'll do whatever it takes to help people, but that's different."

"That's very noble of you," noted Fraser.

Only Ray recognised the subtle sarcasm.

"Here's what I'm gonna do," said Akintola, picking up Ray's gun and tucking it into his jeans. "I am taking this girl to the bank. Then I'm walking away with my money."

He grabbed Carrie-Ann by the arm and dragged her to her feet. Then he took another arrow and pressed it to the side of her neck. Carrie-Ann looked terrified, but she couldn't make a sound.

"That's a good plan," nodded Fraser.

Akintola sneered at him and dragged Carrie-Ann towards the door.

"Unfortunately, you won't get very far," Fraser added.

"What are you talking about, Mountie?" asked Akintola. "Don't try anything, stupid now. I only have to push and this arrow head punctures an artery and she bleeds to death."

"That's true," agreed Fraser.

Ray glanced at the door.

 _Elaine must be out there by now…Fraser's stalling for time…_

Ray had left her at the entrance to the park to meet the ambulance crew who had been on their way to take Charlie Williams to hospital and she would have realised Ray was in trouble when he hadn't come back.

 _Any moment now Elaine and Dief are gonna burst in and save the day…_

"I thought you wanted to help people," continued Fraser.

Ray held his breath.

 _Jeez, Fraser, don't push it…the guy's a head case…_

"I do," agreed Akintola. "I'm trying to help my family right now. I earned that money and you can't keep me from getting my hands on it." He pressed the arrow head a little harder against Carrie-Ann's neck and she gasped.

"What about animals?" asked Fraser casually.

"What about them?" asked Akintola with a frown.

"You see, I've kept my wolf waiting for rather a long time and he's very hungry…" Fraser began and before Akintola had a chance to react, Fraser grabbed the door handle and flung the door open. Diefenbaker came bounding in, barking loudly.

Carrie-Ann screamed as the wolf snarled and bared his teeth in all their lupine glory. Fraser quickly grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away from Akintola who had been momentarily disorientated by the commotion. The arrow clattered to the floor as he stumbled backwards. Ray moved towards him, but Elaine was one step ahead.

She grasped his shoulder and spun him round, pushing him to his knees with a thud. She quickly pulled Ray's gun from Akintola's waistband and flung it across the floor out of his reach. Akintola easily shook himself free of her grip, but she wasn't going to let him get away that easily and with one swift move she had him face down on the floor with her knee in his back and her own gun at his head. "Freeze," she yelled, somewhat superfluously – he wasn't going to move a muscle.

"Nice," nodded Ray, approvingly and he threw her his handcuffs. "You may as well, er, wrap up the parcel," he added. Elaine deftly caught the handcuffs and tucked her gun into her trouser pocket.

"Hello Elaine," smiled Fraser. "It's good to see you."

"Hi Fraser," replied Elaine as she pulled Akintola's arms tightly behind his back and snapped the handcuffs around his wrists.

"I'm glad to see you back in action, so to speak," said Fraser, keeping a firm hold of Carrie-Ann as he spoke.

"I've been deputised," explained Elaine.

"Ah."

Satisfied that Elaine had Akintola contained, Ray retrieved his gun from the floor and crossed to Fraser and Carrie-Ann. He didn't know what to say to her, it would take time to process everything they'd learnt about her and what it meant.

"Ray," said Fraser in a low voice.

Ray knew what his buddy was getting at. He had to arrest Carrie-Ann, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Ray…Ray…you have to…" said Fraser, loosening his grip on her arm.

"OK!" snapped Ray. He pulled his spare set of handcuffs from his pocket and turned them over and over in his hands.

"Ray?" Carrie-Ann was suddenly scared. "What…what are you doing?"

"Carrie-Ann Webber," began Ray with sudden determination. "You're under arrest for conspiracy to murder…"

"No!" she exclaimed. "You don't understand. None of you understand."

She tried to dart towards the door, but Ray grabbed her by the wrist and spun her round.

"Ow!" she whimpered, but Ray refused to loosen his grip.

"Don't give me that," he snapped. "You're under arrest for…"

"You're hurting me, Ray," said Carrie-Ann, fighting back tears.

Ray stared at her in silence for a brief moment, before letting go of her and raising his hands in the air. "Jeez, I'm sorry…" he began. He hadn't meant to hurt her. Despite everything, it was the last thing he'd wanted to do. He knew she must have been desperate to do what she did and she seemed so confused

 _What am I doing…?_

"I didn't mean for it to turn out this way," sniffed Carrie-Ann. "I just couldn't take any more and the more I thought about it the more I thought it didn't matter."

"Stop it," snapped Ray. "Stop talking." Now he was the one who couldn't take any more. He moved towards her again, but without warning she lurched away, almost stumbling to the floor as she did so.

Ray instinctively reached for his gun and Fraser stood back. He knew Ray needed to deal with this one on his own.

Carrie-Ann looked like a terrified animal trapped by a huge predator.

"No, Ray, no…I love you…" she said, desperately looking around for an escape route. Suddenly she saw a glimmer of hope. She grabbed Irene, who had sensibly kept herself out of the furor, and pulled her to her feet. Then she picked up the arrow which Akintola had dropped and pressed it to the elderly woman's neck, just as he had done to hers a few minutes earlier.

Ray raised his gun. This wasn't how he wanted this to end, but he knew that if there was any threat to Irene's life he would have to pull the trigger.

 _I am never dating anyone ever again…_

"Carrie-Ann," said Fraser, calmly. "Please, let her go."

"I can't let you send me to jail!" she exclaimed.

"She already killed on old lady," sneered Akintola. "Number two is a piece of cake."

"Shut it," snapped Elaine.

Carrie-Ann started to breathe heavily and sweat poured down her face. Ray and Fraser glanced at each other, they knew they needed to calm the situation down before someone got hurt, but even Fraser was having difficulty anticipating her next move.

However, no one could have predicted Irene's next move. Before anyone could react, she reached up with both hands and grabbed hold of the hanging rail which ran across the changing benches. Then she swung her legs up in a near perfect pike position, knocking Carrie-Ann's arm and taking her completely by surprise.

In an instant Ray moved in and within seconds Carrie-Ann was on her knees with her wrists in handcuffs. At the same time Fraser leaped forward and plucked Irene from the air before she could fall to the ground.

"Oh, Constable…" she whimpered as he gently sat her down on the bench. "I haven't done that in such a long, long time."

Fraser couldn't help but smile at her. "That was very brave," he noted. "And very agile, for someone…if you don't mind me saying…someone of your age."

Irene laughed. "Thank you," she said. "All those years of gymnastics training finally came in useful for something other than winning medals…but I won't be doing it again in a hurry. I think I've pulled a muscle…or several muscles."

xXxXxXx

"So...so it was a mercy killing, right?" Ray stared across the table in the interrogation room and tried to read Carrie-Ann's face. He desperately hoped to see some kind of remorse, or something that would indicate that Darren Akintola had manipulated her, but he saw nothing except vacant coldness.

"I...I don't think so, Ray," replied Carrie-Ann. "I just wanted her dead. I didn't think about the details. I didn't care, I just wanted her to stop...to stop..." she trailed off and took a deep breath to compose herself.

Fraser stood in the adjacent room observing throu gh the two-way mirror with Elaine. They both knew Ray should not be carrying out this interview, but they also knew he needed the chance to speak to Carrie-Ann one last time. Any minute now Welsh would put a stop to it and hand her over to the Duck Boys, but for now this was Ray's opportunity to get answers.

"I was a mess that day in the gym," continued Carrie-Ann. "Darren offered to help and I gave him my key. I thought it was my only way out. That's all I remember. Next thing I knew he was walking me home and I thought I'd never see him again."

"Did he threaten you?" asked Ray.

Carrie-Ann shook her head. "No, we just had a conversation, that's all. I told him everything, all about losing Mom and what had happened to Gran. I showed him my scars. Everything. I guess it was like therapy."

"And the money?" prompted Ray.

Carrie-Ann shrugged. "I guess I told him there was money available," she said. "I don't remember. It was dumb, but I was desperate. I can't get my hands on that money. It's all in long term accounts. I don't even know where it is, to be honest."

"But you knew it existed," sighed Ray. She'd lied to Fraser about that too and not many people were able to fool the Mountie. Carrie-Ann did not reply. "And me?" prompted Ray. "Where, er, where did I fit into this scheme of yours?"

"It wasn't a scheme," she insisted. "It was...it was...oh God, I don't know what it was. I just knew I needed a way out. I can't think straight any more, Ray."

"Answer the question," Ray insisted forcefully. "Was I part of your plan from the start?"

"I guess," admitted Carrie-Ann. "I knew there was a cop living in the building so I figured...oh I don't know, I guess I figured if I got close to you you'd back me up."

Ray slapped his hand hard on the table and leapt to his feet. He couldn't look at her any more.

"Ray, please!" she begged. "It all changed when I got to know you. Everything became so complicated when I...when I fell in love with you."

Ray turned round suddenly and stared at her. "In love...?" he repeated incredulously. "Jeez, we barely know each other!"

"I thought you felt the same way, Ray," replied Carrie-Ann, tears streaming down her face. "I love you! Help me, Ray!"

Before Ray could answer the door burst open and Fraser stood in the doorway. "Lieutenant Welsh is coming," he said, raising his eyebrows to indicate the u rgency of the situation.

Ray let out a long slow sigh and without another word, or even a glance at Carrie-Ann he walked out of the room.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12.**

"How is...pass me that scalpel, please...how's Ray today?"

Fraser reached across the table, over the body of the latest murder victim and handed the scalpel to Mort. "Ray is...well, to be honest, I'm a little concerned about him," he explained. "He's usually quite open, emotionally speaking - a quality I can't help but admire - but since Carrie-Ann...well, he's become rather withdrawn."

"Is she still under observation?" asked Mort .

Fraser shook his head. "No, she has now been moved to a secure custody unit," he replied. "We have a preliminary psychiatric evaluation, but we're still awaiting the full report."

"And the results?" prompted Mort as he peered into the incision he'd just made.

"Inconclusive," replied Fraser. "There's no doubt her mental state was influenced by recent events - the death of her mother, for example - but whether there's enough there for a lawyer to use as a defence is questionable at this juncture. It will be difficult to prove that she was not in control of her faculties when she arranged the murder of her grandmother."

"I can see why Ray is finding it difficult to reconcile," answered Mort. "Forceps, please."

"Indeed," nodded Fraser, passing the forceps to his friend.

Just then there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Mort sung out.

The door opened slowly and Inspector Thatcher walked in. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Dr Gustafson," she began, " but I urgently need to speak with Constable Fraser."

Mort stifled a grin at the flicker of panic on Fraser's face. He picked up a small metal ruler and continued his work.

"Um, er, yes, sir," said Fraser, spinning round to face his superior officer.

"Sixteen millimetres," said Mort, before Thatcher had a chance to speak.

"Ah, excuse me," said Fraser, apologetically and he picked up a clipboard which had been resting on the side, clicked on the pen which was attached to it by a length of string and wrote down the dimension. "Internal dimension?" he queried.

"Yes," nodded Mort and Fraser marked the figures accordingly.

"I can see you're busy," said Thatcher. "It's not that important. Perhaps we could talk later when you're back at the Consulate?"

"Don't mind me," grinned Mort and he winked at Fraser.

"Oh, oh, well alright," Thatcher answered, awkwardly. "It's just that...it's just that I've been thinking that maybe we should get a dog. What do you think?"

"We, sir?" Fraser queried. He could feel his face turning redder as he spoke.

 _What does she mean, exactly…?_

She'd wanted to have a baby not that long ago and there had been a horribly messy misunderstanding over that whole situation. Fraser didn't want to make the same mistake again.

"I meant the Consulate," Meg quickly explained, realising how it might have sounded. "I just thought it might be nice to have a pet around the place."

"With all due respect, sir," Fraser began. "I'm not sure how Diefenbaker would feel about it. Of course he's not a pet as you know, but introducing another dog into our pack, so to speak, may cause conflict."

"Oh," Meg answered quietly. "I hadn't thought of that. What about a cat?"

"Wolves and cats, sir, are not known for their ability to co-habitate," replied Fraser. "With respect, sir, you really don't need to do this."

"Do what?" she asked, innocently.

She knew she wasn't fooling him though. She was still trying to prove to him how much she loved animals and she knew Fraser could see through her. She had been carrying the guilt of the comments she'd made after the little dog had been injured by Darren Akintola's arrow and she was trying desperately to make amends. The last thing she wanted was for this to be yet another difference of opinion that came between them.

"I...I know that you..." began Fraser in a low voice. He broke off momentarily to glance over his shoulder at Mort, but the ageing mortician appeared engrossed in his work. "I know that you care," he said finally.

 _...about me..._

"About animals."

Thatcher was taken aback by his words. "You do?" she queried and Fraser nodded. "Well, yes, you're right," she continued, nodding profusely. "I do...I do care…deeply..."

 _...about you..._

"...about animals and...and I know you do too."

"Yes," nodded Fraser. "Very much so."

The two Mounties stared deeply into each other's eyes. Neither of them could bear to break away and ruin this moment. They both knew what each other was thinking and the fact that a mere six feet away Mort was carrying out an autopsy made no difference to the way either of them was feeling. In fact if they had been alone in the morgue Fraser felt sure there would have been further 'contact'.

 _This is not supposed to happen…_

His heart was pounding and he fought desperately to control his emotions.

 _This is wrong…but it feels right…I will never understand…_

"Fraser!"

Mort's voice cut into Fraser's thoughts like a bolt of lightning. He spun round sharply. Part of him was grateful, but another part of him knew he could have happily stayed in that moment forever.

"There's your cause of death," continued Mort, nodding towards the area he had been working on.

"Good lord," said Fraser, peering closely at the body. "In that case…" he trailed off and slowly moistened his lower lip with his tongue as the evidence came together in his mind. "This man was killed by his wife!"

Inspector Thatcher had to take a sudden step backwards as Fraser half-ran across the room to the telephone, quickly pulling the latex glove from his right hand as he did so. He picked up the receiver and dialled Ray's extension number.

"Ray, it's me," he said, urgently as soon as Ray picked up the telephone on his desk. "Is Mrs De Vere still with you?" He paused for an answer. "Then you must stop her immediately…she is guilty of the murder of her husband." He paused again while Ray repeated Fraser's announcement, just to be sure. "Yes," Fraser confirmed. "I'll explain later."

He put the phone down and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he nodded appreciatively at Mort. "Thank you kindly," he said. "I should get back upstairs."

"Glad I could be of service," replied Mort and he began to sing one of his favourite arias.

Fraser removed his other glove, deposited them both in the clinical waste bin and walked towards the door, pausing briefly to glance at Inspector Thatcher.

"Sir," he said with a nod.

"Constable," she replied. Then he was gone.

Thatcher stood awkwardly at Mort. It seemed rude just to leave without saying anything. "Um, good work, doctor," she said.

"You're welcome to stay," smiled Mort. "I'm just finishing up here. I'm sure you'll find this fascinating." He went back to his work and his singing.

"Um…" Thatcher replied. Then she made the mistake of looking closely at the body and a wave of nausea almost overwhelmed her. She clamped her hand to her mouth and ran out of the room.

Mort looked up as the door closed behind her and frowned. Then he addressed the body of Mr De Vere. "Perhaps she would have preferred something from Carmen?" he said with a shrug.

xXxXxXx

The day of the archery competition arrived and Fraser had agreed to help Irene who was still suffering after using her long forgotten gymnastics skills.

"Did you apply the ointment I gave you?" he asked as he carried her bow for her.

"Yes," she replied. "And it helped, thank you, but I certainly won't be reviving my gymnastics career any time soon."

"May I suggest a permanent retirement this time?" said Fraser as they walked slowly over to the starting position.

"Definitely," agreed Irene. "Unless you need my help catching criminals again," she added with a wink.

Fraser stood back as Irene loaded her bow and took aim.

Just then, Kris Nelson approached him. "Hi," he said, nervously. "I, er, I heard about Darren. Man! I always knew that guy was a creep," he added.

Fraser nodded. "He has been charged with murder and the previous case is being looked into. There is a strong possibility that he will be re-tried in connection with that particular homicide too."

Kris nodded. "I had a call from the States' Attorney's office yesterday," he said. "Some fancy lawyer. Didn't understand half of what she said, but they're gonna look at my old case too."

"I'm pleased to hear that," said Fraser, bursting into spontaneous applause as Irene's arrow hit the bullseye.

"Thanks, man," said Kris and he shook Fraser's hand vigorously. "If I ever get in trouble again, I'll come looking for the Mountie."

Fraser nodded an acknowledgement a Kris walked away.

Irene's second arrow was almost as good as the first and she turned round and smiled at Fraser, who gave her a thumbs up. He could tell she was in some discomfort, but he couldn't help but admire her bravery and determination when faced with whatever challenges came her way.

xXxXxXx

"The De Vere case was short and sweet."

Elaine smiled as she chatted with Ray over lunch at the diner she always used to go to when she worked at the Twenty Seventh.

"Yeah," agreed Ray, pouring salt over his plate of food. "Just how I like 'em."

Just then, Fraser walked in. Elaine looked up and smiled broadly at him. "Hi, Fraser," she said as he sat down beside her.

"Ice Queen let you out for lunch?" Ray smirked.

"The Inspector is satisfied that all my reports are up to date, if that's what you mean," retorted Fraser, tugging at his earlobe.

It had been a difficult couple of days since the incident with Thatcher in the morgue. As usual after such an occurrence – and they were becoming more frequent recently – the following days consisted of the Inspector snapping at him for no reason. Fraser was starting to realise that it was her way of dealing with her feelings – or at least her way of pushing her feelings aside. Fraser himself did not have a clue how to deal with his own feelings so he did not feel in any position to judge. Instead he gave her space and allowed her to yell at him if she needed to. He had to admit that this pre-arranged lunch date with Ray and Elaine was a welcome relief from the tension.

"I ordered for ya, buddy," noted Ray.

"Thank you kindly, Ray," acknowledged Fraser. Then he turned to Elaine. "I hear you return to work at the Twenty Fifth tomorrow," he said.

Elaine smiled. "Yes," she nodded. "The IA investigation is still ongoing, of course, but I have been cleared of any wrong doing."

"As I knew you would," noted Fraser.

Elained smiled again. "Thank you for believing in me," she said and Fraser nodded. "And Ray, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about it, but I had to be so careful," she added.

Ray shrugged. "It's OK, I get it," he replied. "When IA are involved I don't want anything to do with it anyway."

"It will feel strange being back there again," said Elaine wistfully. "I actually spoke to Welsh about coming back to the Two Seven, but he made me realise I have to go. It's the right thing to do for now. Although he promised that when the time was right he'll demand to have me back on the team."

Ray grinned at her. "Can't wait," he said.

"I met with the new Lieutenant yesterday," continued Elaine. "He seems really nice. I'm kind of nervous about what some of the other guys will think of me now, though." She looked at Fraser before continuing. "I know how you must have felt when you were forced to come to Chicago after bringing down Gerrard for murdering your father."

Fraser nodded understandingly. The actions of some of the senior members of the RCMP had hurt him at the time, but he could understand why they'd acted the way they had. As it turned out, being 'banished' to Chicago had been one of the best things that could have happened to him.

Ray shrugged. "This is different," he said. "I don't know about Mounties, but here in Chicago cops hate corrupt cops. And your new Lieu must agree with me, he already gave you a promotion," noted Ray.

Elaine blushed and looked coyly at Fraser.

"He did?" Fraser queried just as the waiter brought over a plate with a fully loaded cheeseburger and a portion of fries. "Thank you kindly," he said. Then he addressed Elaine again. "You didn't mention that."

"Well, I…I…" stammered Elaine. "I don't know if I really deserve it."

"Sure y'do," replied Ray. "You had the guts to bring down the old corruption ring," he noted. "And besides that, I, er, I saw you in the field last week. You saved our asses! Jeez, you were great back there!"

Elaine blushed harder. "I don't know about great," she began. "And I'm sure you and Fraser would have figured something out if I hadn't been there," she added graciously.

"Now that's a good quality in a woman. Humility."

Fraser was about to take a bite out of his burger, but he froze when he heard the sound of his father's voice.

The ghost of Bob Fraser had made himself comfortable on the opposite side of the table next to Ray and was unashamedly helping himself to his son's fries.

"You could do a lot worse than her, you know," continued Bob. "That Inspector of yours is too needy for my liking."

"Needy?" repeated Fraser, although he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"What?" queried Ray with a puzzled frown.

"Oh, er, needy…needs some more ketchup," said Fraser, fixing a strange expression on his face.

Elaine passed him the bottle and he opened his burger and added the tiniest amount of extra sauce before rebuilding his it and taking a bite. "Mmmm…" he mumbled with a mouthful of food. "Much better."

Ray glanced at Elaine and mouthed the word 'freak' with a wicked grin, earning himself a disapproving look in the process.

"I'm being serious," Bob Fraser continued, wagging a finger across the table as he spoke. "Look at her. She has excellent bone structure, for one thing. Good breeding stock, son."

Fraser almost choked on his food.

"You OK there, buddy?" asked Ray with concern, passing his water across the table.

Elaine slapped him on the back and he gulped down the water gratefully.

"I'm terribly sorry," said Fraser when he had finally regained his composure. "If you'll excuse me for just one moment."

He got up from the booth and walked over to the corner of the diner. Ray watched with a mixture of amusement and bemusement as the Mountie appeared to have an animated conversation with the wall. Ray was used to this kind of behaviour now. This was just Fraser being Fraser. His buddy was a freak, but it didn't bother him anymore.

Elaine, of course, could not see what was going on behind her. Instead she studied Ray with concern. He hadn't been himself since the whole mess with Carrie-Ann had unravelled and she felt sorry for him. He seemed unusually distant today and it was worrying. She hadn't worked with him for that long before her graduation and subsequent transfer to the Twenty Fifth Precinct, but Ray was an open book and it had been easy to get to know him well in that short time. It had been good to spend time with him again and she would miss seeing him so often. Not as much as she'd miss Fraser, of course, but still enough to feel sad that this would probably be their last lunch for a while.

"How are you holding up, Ray?" she asked.

Immediately she had Ray's full attention. Fraser would have to continue his freaky Canadian behaviour unobserved. "Me?" he queried, trying to sound nonchalant. "I'm fine," he replied. "Peachy."

Elaine frowned at him. "Really, I mean," she said. "I think you're bottling things up and that's not like you. You know I care about you and Fraser cares about you. You should let us help."

Ray glared at her. "I'm fine, OK? And I don't need you, or Fraser pokin' around in my head. Understand?"

"I'm sorry, Ray, but…" she began.

"No, I'm sorry," Ray interrupted her with a sigh. "Look, I, er, I appreciate the concern, but this is just something I have to work through on my own. You know, the whole mess has taught me one good thing."

"Oh, what's that?" asked Elaine, glad that Ray seemed to be finding positives in the situation.

"That I'm done with women," replied Ray.

Elaine sighed sadly. That's not quite what she'd hoped he would say. "Well, keep your hands off the guys," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "I've been looking longer than you have." She glanced longingly over her shoulder at Fraser.

"Hardy har har," retorted Ray. "Don't worry, Fraser's yours for the taking."

Elaine smiled. _Oh…if only…_

"I mean it," continued Ray. "I'm done. I'm out of the game. I had some of the best years of my life with Stella…"

… _and some of the worst…_

"…so I don't need another woman. Ever. Romance sucks. Or…I suck at romance. One of those things. Probably both."

Before Elaine could reply Fraser returned to the table.

"You OK there, buddy?" asked Ray.

"Yes, thank you, Ray," he replied.

Ray was about to say something else, when a face suddenly appeared at the window of the diner making all three occupants of the booth jump. It was Francesca. She smiled and waved manically when she saw them.

"Oh dear," sighed Fraser.

Elaine and Ray exchanged a glance and a snigger.

Francesca came barging into the diner, almost knocking a plate of food out of the hands of one of the waitresses. She strode confidently over to the booth with her head held high and her chest puffed out and sat herself down beside Fraser. Elaine had no choice but to hurriedly shuffle over and ended up squashed against the wall.

Fraser was now trapped, pinned in between the two women with no possible chance of escape from their new guest.

Ray, who still had the whole bench on the other side to himself, smirked openly, but Francesca was too stubborn to take any notice.

"Hi, Frase," Francesca smiled at the stunned Mountie. "Why didn't you tell me you were all lunching here today? I could have joined you."

"Er, well, er…" stammered Fraser.

"It was a last minute decision," replied Elaine and Fraser nodded profusely.

"Well I'm glad I found you," continued Francesca.

"Been looking all over town?" asked Ray, trying to keep a straight face.

"No," retorted Francesca. "I just happened to be passing, that's all."

"And to what do we owe the, um, the pleasure?" asked Fraser, acutely aware that he should have chosen his words more carefully.

"The pleasure's all mine," replied Francesca in a low, husky voice. She leaned her head a little sideways and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.

Now it was Elaine's turn to choke on her food. Ray stifled another giggle as Fraser's face turned as red as a beetroot.

"Er, haven't you got somewhere else to be, Frannie?" Ray asked, feeling that his buddy had suffered enough already.

"No," replied Francesca, with a smug grin. "I'm on my lunch break. Oh, that reminds me, Ray, Stella came by looking for you earlier. She left a sealed, confidential envelope on your desk. It's the psych report on Carrie-Ann Webber. I'm sorry, Ray, but you're not going to like it."

Ray's face went white.

"Um, how do you know what it said if it was sealed and marked 'confidential'?" asked Elaine with an angry frown.

"I opened it," replied Francesca, innocently.

"You did what?" exclaimed Ray, but he was too angry to say anything else.

Elaine glanced at Ray and then shot Fraser a worried look. Fraser was obviously having the same thoughts as her. Ray was about to explode and, while Francesca shouldn't have read the contents of the envelope, it wasn't fair for her to have to take the brunt of Ray's impending outburst.

"You know, I'd like to buy Lieutenant Welsh something to thank him for standing by me over this corruption business," said Elaine suddenly. "Francesca, I'd really appreciate your help in choosing a gift. I know you and he are close." She struggled to her feet and Fraser carefully slid himself along the bench to let her out, pushing Francesca along with him, until she had no choice but to stand too.

Francesca beamed with pride. "Well," she said. "Harding and I do work well together. He trusts me. He knows the Department couldn't run without me now. I know exactly what he likes. In fact, I have the perfect idea for a gift."

"Excellent," smiled Elaine with relief. "Then let's go." And with that she hurriedly bundled Francesca out of the diner and along the street to the mall.

Fraser watched through the window until they were out of sight, afraid that at any moment Francesca might come running back. Thankfully, Elaine's plan seemed to have worked. He glanced at Ray with concern. Thankfully, Ray appeared to be a little calmer now.

"It's OK, buddy," he said. "I'm not gonna kick her in the head. Even though she deserves it."

"I'm glad to hear that, Ray."

There was a moment's silence between the two friends before Ray spoke again.

"So, I'm not gonna like the report," he said, sadly. "I guess that means she was a psycho from the start. Figures."

"Ray, we should not jump to conclusions," Fraser pointed out. "Francesca's interpretation of what you may, or may not like about the report may be different to your own."

Ray shrugged. "I don't care," he replied. "I'm not even gonna read the damn report. Whatever it says, this is just another closed case now. If she's a cold hearted killer then let the judge deal with her. If she's damaged…well, then she's gonna get the right kind of help now, right?"

Fraser nodded. "Agreed," he said. "And I understand your reluctance to be drawn any deeper into this, but you can't ignore what happened…you can't ignore the affect events have had on you."

"Well that's where you're wrong, buddy," replied Ray. "I can and I will. I, er, I've got no choice. I can't deal with it. I have to just make a, er…y'know, a clean break."

Fraser nodded slowly. "If you ever need to talk about what happened…" he began.

"I'll be sure to find someone who doesn't shrivel up at the idea of a guy talking about his feelings," Ray finished.

Fraser did not know what to say. Was that really what Ray thought?

 _Am I really so unapproachable? I thought he realised by now that he can talk to me about anything if he needs to…_

Ray broke into a huge grin. "Sorry, buddy, I'm kidding," he said, reaching across the table and giving Fraser a friendly punch on the arm. "You know I'll come straight to you if I need ya."

Fraser nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm very glad to hear that, Ray."

Fraser felt he'd learnt a lot about friendship since he'd been in Chicago and the thought that Ray might not feel comfortable talking to him about his feelings had hurt. His father had given him some invaluable advice over the years on a wide variety of subjects, but he had also given him some terrible advice, most notably on anything to do with feelings and emotions. At least Fraser had learnt now that it really is alright for a man to talk about his feelings. He just hoped Ray could find some peace soon.

"I mean, we're a duet, right?" continued Ray. "So, where else am I supposed to go when I need a, er, a shoulder to cry on?"

"Francesca?" deadpanned Fraser and Ray laughed.

Then his smile faded. "I'm OK, y'know," he said.

Fraser nodded. "I know," he said.

"I, er, I just gotta figure out a few things," Ray continued, tapping the side of his temple with his forefinger.

"I know," said Fraser again.

Ray nodded silently. They both knew that it wouldn't be long before Ray needed to deal openly with what had happened with Carrie-Ann and it wouldn't be a pretty sight, but for now they would both just carry on as normal.

"Pass the salt, Fraser," said Ray.

"My conscience won't allow me," replied Fraser.

"What?"

"You've already doused your fries with enough salt today to raise your blood pressure reading significantly."

"But I like salt."

"You won't like having a heart attack, or a stroke."

"Jeez, y'really know how to take all the fun out of eating." Ray pushed his plate away from him as he spoke and sneered at Fraser.

"I'm sorry, Ray."

Ray shook his head and smiled. This was good. No, this was great! He could cry over Carrie-Ann another time. Today he just wanted to argue with his buddy about salt.

THE END.


End file.
